Letters to Everybody
by Siebenschlaefer
Summary: During a horrible summer after fifth year, Harry has enough. Using the connection to Voldemort, Harry begins to realize what he has to do to end the war. Decision made, Harry writes letters. Will Harry's action end the war and bring changes to the wizarding world? And will somebody save him?
1. The first letter

**Disclaimer:** I wish it was mine, but alas I am not J. K. Rowling and will never be. All rights of these wonderful universe belong to her.

 **I read a lot of HP fanfiction of the last year, and over the time a plot bunny wouldn't go away. The result is my first try on my own fanfic. English is not my first langue, so be patient with me please,** **I appreciate the pointing out of every grammar or spelling mistake or odd words etc.**

A big thank you to a-bit-of-madness for beta'ing.

 **Warnings:** child abuse, violence, suicide attempt, slash (but it will take some time) and Severus-Harry mentorship/guardianship – if you don't like it, don't read it, you have been warned.

 **Summary:** During a horrible summer after fifth year, Harry has enough, all he wants to be is free. Using the connection between Voldemort and himself, Harry begins to realize what he has to do to end the war. Decision made, Harry writes letters to nearly everybody he knows or has something to say to. Will Harry's action end the war and bring changes to the wizarding world? And will somebody realize his plans and save him?

Have fun reading.

 **Let's start the story.**

* * *

 **Letters to Everybody**

 **Chapter 1: The first letter**

It was a rather cold night for the middle of July. A few clouds gathered in the black night sky, but the moonlight shone bright enough to illuminate the smallest bedroom of No 4 Privet Drive. The occupant of this room sat on a small cot, a thin blanket over his legs, his back to the wall. Using a large book as a pad, Harry Potter finished the letter he was writing with a quick _Goodbye, Harry_. Sighing, he blew on the parchment to dry the ink faster and put the letter on top of the others he had written over the last few hours.

Stretching his legs and trying to get rid of the cramps in his neck, Harry couldn't suppress a wince when the skin around one of the fresh welts on his back was pulled. Uncle Vernon had had a very bad day at work and had drunk on the way back home. It was always worse when he was drunk.

It wasn't the worst beating he had gotten this summer, but together with the injuries from the last one, two days earlier, his back was raw and felt like it was on fire. Gently rolling up the arm of his too big t-shirt, Harry inspected the dark bruises on his left upper arm from being dragged up the stairs. At least nothing was broken, he thought, rubbing his tired eyes. The mass of curls on his head stood up in every direction from the anxious way he'd been pushing his fingers through it while writing.

A cold breeze made his skin break out into goose bumps and he looked out of the open window, where a movement caught his attention. Hedwig, his beautiful snowy owl came flying through the window and landed on the bed beside him.

"Hey Hedwig", Harry said in a whisper and began stroking her. "How was your night? Caught a big fat mouse?" Hedwig hooted and nipped at his finger affectionately.

"I have some letters for you to deliver if you're not too tired." Hedwig looked at him indignantly and nipped his finger harder, making Harry smile. "Yes, yes, I know. You are the best." He shuffled through the pile of letters till he found the one he wanted.

"Here, this one first. Don't wait for a reply, get out of there as fast as possible." Harry carefully secured the letter to Hedwig's leg, then picked her up and carried her to the open window. With one last quiet hoot, Hedwig took off into the night, quickly soaring out of sight.

For a few moments Harry listened to the noises of the house. When only Dudley's snoring reached his ears, he relaxed. Uncle Vernon would kill him if he was woken up in the middle of the night because of Hedwig and, theoretically, he was not allowed to send letters to anybody. Mentally shrugging, Harry grinned. It was more like he was sending letters to _everybody_ not anybody (ok, not the whole population of Wizarding Britain, but to a lot of people nonetheless).

"I am not sure if this was really a good idea, but too late to back down now. In for a knut…"

He picked up the pile of letters and sorted through them. Satisfied that he hadn't forgotten anyone, he put them in the right order and placed them under the loose floor board under the bed. His most prized possessions were in there - his wand, the invisibility cloak, his firebolt, the photo album with pictures of his parents and the food Mrs. Weasley had send him two weeks ago. He still had some left, and with how little he was used to eating now it would last him till the end of the summer.

Taking a piece from a meat pie, Harry sat on the floor savouring every bite. Sipping some water out of the three bottles he also kept under the bed, he planned his next step. In three days, the whole British wizarding world would know what Voldemort and Dumbledore had tried to hide. Both had their reasons, and in Harry's eyes both were wrong.

Three days and he would be free.

Leaving the window open slightly, in case Hedwig came back during the next few hours, Harry climbed into bed, wrapped the blanket around himself and fell into a restless sleep.

* * *

The occupants of Malfoy Manor also had a restless night, which had everything to do with their 'honoured' guest in the east wing. Nobody slept well with Lord Voldemort in the same building.

The fire in his personal living room was roaring, but Voldemort could not feel the heat. Since his resurrection one year ago he'd had a kind of foreboding feeling, something was not right. The feeling had only intensified after he managed to possess Harry Potter, the damn boy-who-didn't-die, in the Ministry of Magic only a few weeks before.

A tapping at the window pulled Voldemort from his thoughts. Knowing that nothing harmful could have entered the wards of Malfoy Manor, he walked to the window, carefully stepping over his familiar Nagini who lay curled up beside him. Outside on the window seat sat a snow-white owl with a letter attached to its leg.

Who would send him a letter in the middle of the night?

Opening the window, the owl stretched his leg to him. As soon as Voldemort had removed the letter, it took off again. Frowning, the Dark Lord inspected the letter, finding nothing that could have given a clue who the sender was.

He hissed in surprise and anger as he saw the name at the front. There, in simple letters, a name was written, a name only a few living people would remember and lesser would connect to him:

 _Tom Marvolo Riddle_

Feeling fury rise within him, Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord, the most powerful wizard in the world, opened the letter.

 _Dear Tom (sorry but I really can't call you Lord Voldemort, it's a ridiculous anagram. Flight from death? Really?)_

White hot anger sparked in the Dark Lord, palpable throughout the room- who dared to mock **HIM**? The darkest and most powerful wizard since Merlin!

Somewhere behind him he heard glass shatter and Nagini shifted uneasily in her sleep. He took a slow deep breath, taking back control of his magic. Whoever the sender was, they would be dead in the next days.

 _Oops, sorry, I really didn't want to mock you. Back to the matter at hand._ _I have information that you're going to find important, so before you set this letter on fire,_ _read till the end._

 _Yes, I know that you, Lord Voldemort_ _, were once known by the name Tom_ _Marvolo Riddle. I know a lot_ _of things about_ _you, but that's neither here nor there_ _. What I want to tell you is that you made a mistake - well, you made more than one and eventually you will come to regret all of them- but one specific mistake, could be your downfall. This isn't meant as a threat, it's simply the truth._

 _But perhaps I should start at the beginning._

 _Your f_ _irst mistake was creating your very first Horcrux at 16 (Yes, I know about them, all of them_ _. Don't get your knickers in a twist). What you ignored- or didn't know or wasn't in your calculations- was the fact that when you murdered Myrtle, your soul wouldn't split a small amount. No, it split in half!_ _Half of your 16-year-old soul was put in the diary._

 _Do you even know what the consequences were?_

 _At 16 our magic is not completely settled, our magical core is still growing, still developing, and it is closely linked to our soul. A growing magical core needs a whole soul to develop and to give us the ability to reach the top of our magical potential. Without a soul, or with a damaged one, the access to our magic is crippled._

 _Do you even understand what you did, you bloody fool?_

 _You crippled yourself, hindered your magical development and blocked your access to your own magic. And you lost the ability for some very important human emotions. Do you even feel anything aside from anger, fury and sadistic pleasure?_

 _You paved the way to your own insanity, with every Horcrux you made you destroyed not just your soul, but your mind and you didn't even see it. But you will once you've finished reading._

 _Your goals before the Horcruxes weren't too bad, I even have to say they were rather right. We must stay hidden from the Muggles, and it is sad how much muggle traditions are brought into our world disregarding the wizarding ones, and every magical child should be put into a good and loving home, never put into a muggle orphanage_ _._

 _I understand your hatred of muggles, probably better than most, but the way you went about this was wrong – genocide is always wrong._

 _And then you_ _strayed farther and farther_ _from these original goals. Pure-blood supremacy is not the answer, it leads to inbreeding which leads to magically weak children and squibs (if you have the time read muggle literature about DNA, gene pools, gene mutation and mendelian rules). I mean, look around, Half-bloods and Muggle-borns are so much more powerful than most of the purebloods (Severus Snape, my mother and you are only a few examples)._

 _Okay, but back to_ _the point._ _Every time you made a Horcrux your soul was split in half_ _, driving you to further insanity,_ _reducing the accessibility of your magical core and crippling your magic in strength and potential. Then, when you went after me on Halloween 1981, because of a self-fulfilling prophecy, your soul was damaged_ _beyond repair._

 _The murder of two people and the attempted murder of an innocent baby broke it, again, in half. Half of the little soul you had left broke off and it would have vanished, but it found a whole soul to ground it. So, it attached itself to the only soul left – me. You made me your Horcrux that night, ironic if you think about how often you've tried to kill me._

 _The next mistake you made was using my blood to resurrect yourself. You deepened the connection between us. And yes, you've used it to torture me with these dreams and visions (and isn't it another sign how insane you are that you never thought about this connection, never tried to find out from where it came from, never realized that I am your Horcrux?). But you forgot something: a connection goes both ways. And so, I often went to visit you, especially this summer._

 _I learned so much about you and our connection. In the next few hours I will use it, to give you back what is yours, and what you should never have split. I will give you back your soul and with it, your brilliant mind, your missing emotions and the ability to understand what you did. And even if you are a homicidal maniac at heart, it will still hurt to see the utter mess you fabricated, how much you strayed from your goals and your path. How many important wizarding bloods you wasted and lost._

 _I almost wish I could be there when you realize all this, it would be interesting to see what you do next, but my plans will not allow it._ _After tonight, do what you think is best, I won't care or interfere._

 _This will be the last time you hear from me. I wish you all the best, Tom Marvolo Riddle, and may the wizarding world be prepared to deal with you in all your powerful, brilliant, sane and hopefully not homicidal glory._

 _Goodbye,_

 _Harry Potter._

* * *

 **AN:** **Please review and let me know what you think.**

Many thanks to a-bit-of-madness for helping to improve my spelling and grammar.

In the moment my beta is editing the already published 9 chapters, and I will be working to update them when I get them back. So the next new chapter (chapter 10) will take some time.

First published: 4th of March 2018

Last edited: 15th of October 2018


	2. Merging soul pieces

**Disclaimer:** Still not mine

 **A/N:** Thank you for your kind reviews. That there are people not only reading but also liking what my crazy mind produced made me grin for hours and motivated to write the next chapter. I hope you like it.

This chapter is now beta'ed, by the wonderful a-bit-of-madness.

Have fun reading.

 **On with the story**

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Merging soul pieces**

Thin pale hands with long fingers and sharp nails clutched the letter, trembling in sheer all-encompassing rage. But there was something else in his blood-red eyes, something like fear. The boy knew of his Horcruxes. If the boy knows, does Dumbledore also know? But how? His horcruxes were his most hidden secret, not even his most trusted Death Eaters knew about them.

Could the boy be right, though?

In all his research on horcruxes he'd never read about the possibility of insanity and loss of magic. Did he really cripple his magical core and magic accessibility? The few books he had found about Horcruxes talked about consequences and a price to pay, but never specified what and because he hadn't really felt different after the first one, he forgot about it.

But this was not the time to think about this. If the boy knew about his Horcruxes and possibly Albus too, they were in danger. He had to check on them. The boy mentioned the diary, perhaps he should call Lucius…

No, none of his follower really knew what he had done to become immortal. To call Lucius and inquire about the diary would be too suspicious.

Perhaps the ring…

Clenching his fist brought Voldemort back from his thoughts as looked down to the crumped letter, a passage catching his eyes. Was Harry Potter really his Horcrux? It would be truly ironic if it was true.

The quiet sound of Nagini shifting in her sleep made him glance at his familiar. The Horcrux in her deepened the familiar bond between them, enabling him to visit her mind and see through her eyes. Yes, it was quite like the connection he had with Potter. Had he managed what nobody had before?

Creating a human Horcrux…

The possibilities…

For a short moment Lord Voldemort felt smug, then his eyes went wide, and he looked at the letter again.

' _a connection goes both ways'_

Yes, he could use this. Voldemort drew his head back and laughed, a maniacal, sinister sound. Yes, a connection goes both ways, and he'd already used it this last school year quite satisfactorily to torment the boy.

A quick look to the window confirmed that it was still night, perhaps early morning. The boy would be still asleep.

Perfect.

Lord Voldemort sat down in the armchair in front of the fire. He searched for the connections with Nagini and Potter in his mind. Yes, they were alike, so the boy really _was_ hisHorcrux. With this realization, Lord Voldemort felt a wave of possessiveness for Harry Potter.

He was _his_ , his human Horcrux, and he must be protected.

He would have to tell his Death Eaters that he was to be brought to him – alive and unhurt.

But now he had to find out where Harry Potter was, what he knew and if Dumbledore suspected what Potter was. If he knew, he would kill the boy, or perhaps he had hoped that he, Lord Voldemort himself, would kill him if he was blind to the true nature of their connection.

Concentrating on the connection to Potter, Lord Voldemort lowered his occlumency shields and reached for the boy's mind.

* * *

A sharp pain in his scar woke Harry a few hours after sending Hedwig off with the first letter. Groaning he pressed his hand against the scar, sat up und looked around. Hedwig was in her open cage, asleep. She'd delivered it.

Harry hissed as another painful sting was felt in his scar.

Good, Tommy boy got his letter, and he was reading it. Harry had known before he even wrote the letter that Tom wouldn't like what he had to say. Therefore, the burning in his lightning bolt scar was not a surprise. He could feel the murderous rage echoing off the man while he read. Nice to know, that he still could rile him up.

A new wave of pain reminded Harry that he had to proceed to the next step of his plan. He lowered himself to the floor, cross-legged, and closed his eyes. This was the most important and most dangerous part. He could lose himself during the procedure.

Concentrating on his breathing, Harry descended into his mind.

He had done this a lot in the last weeks. First to find a way to protect his mind against Voldemort, but after studying the connection they shared, he often dwelled there and observed it. He had learned so much, not only about the connection and Voldemort, but also about his own mind.

The disastrous occlumency lesson with Snape had left him thinking he would never understand the art, but after he familiarized himself with his mind space, he now had quite strong shields.

Looking around, he found himself in a small, cosy room with an armchair in front of a large fireplace and bookshelves all around the walls. Books and boxes in various sizes and colours filled them. None of them were labelled, and there was no obvious order.

Harry sighed, everything was where it should be. He approached one of the bookshelves and took a grey box from it, then walked to the armchair and sat down with the box in his lap. Carefully, he opened the lid. A mass of red and green, not entirely solid but clearly not mist, swirled around something that looked like a wound in the shape of a lightning bolt, completely midnight black in its colour. Strings of red from the swirling mass vanished into the black wound.

Harry touched one of the strings… yes, Voldemort was furious, but he could also feel an underlying fear. Interesting, so he could still feel something besides anger. Leaving this string alone, Harry touched one of the others, this one thicker than the one connecting him with Voldemort.

The presence at the other end of the connection felt muted, there was still the ever-present anger Harry always could feel from Voldemort, but it felt more like an echo or a memory, nothing alive. Good, it wasn't Nagini. Taking a deep breath Harry reached with his magic along the string.

Whatever was at the end of the connection felt wrong, unnatural and malicious. But also, broken and lonely. As gently as he could, but with a strong and firm grab, he let his magic envelope the presence and tugged. Wherever it was anchored held tight, but Harry tugged harder and finally, after what felt like hours, it came free. A mist manifested before him, red and black colours, moving like it had a mind of its own.

Closing the box and setting it aside, Harry rose from the armchair. A quick glance to the middle of the room, confirmed that the basin he needed was there. His magic still enveloping the mist, Harry directed it to the basin. It was not filled with water, but with a grey, milky liquid. Colours drifted to the surface and sank again, forming swirls and ribbons and beautiful formations, only to diffuse and build new ones.

Harry held his breath as the mist, directed by his magic, floated above the liquid. Finger like structures rose from the liquid connecting with the mist. and with a warm breath of magic the mist was sucked into the liquid, leaving behind a surface smooth as glass.

A grin formed on Harry's lips. It was working… okay, he had been sure that he could move the soul piece in a Horcrux along the strings connecting them all to each other. But still… he had not dared to try it in fear of alerting Voldemort or Dumbledore.

But to see in practise what he only planned and studied in theory … it was… exceptional.

Harry sat back in the armchair and placed the box back in his lap. One down, four to go. Concentrating on the next string Harry reached out with his magic, to do what only he could do, reaching out from one Horcrux to the other.

* * *

In an old rundown shack a golden ring embedded with a black stone in a golden box under the floorboards shone shortly before, with something like a sigh, it cracked. The black stone rolled on the ground… and vanished.

* * *

Coming out of his mind Harry glanced at the clock. Good, not even an hour was gone. Harry got up from his position on the floor and stretched. It was draining to reach across the soul connection, freeing the pieces and bringing them to his mind. But he had managed.

A big grin formed on Harry's face.

Residing in the basin in his mind were now the soul piece from the diary- which had lashed itself to Harry after he had destroyed its original container- and five other pieces he had collected in the last hour. The pieces in the basin had merged together and Harry now had nearly the whole soul of Lord Voldemort aka Tom Riddle in his possession. Only three pieces were missing- the one in Harry himself, the one in Nagini and the one in Voldemort's body. He wouldn't call it the main piece because it was even smaller than the one residing in Harry, perhaps original or dominant would be an appropriate term.

A piercing pain in his scar brought Harry back to the matters at hand. He sat back and entered his mind space again.

Back in the cosy room, Harry checked the box with the red and green mass swirling around the black lightning wound. Only three strings were left, and the one connecting himself with Voldemort shone in a malicious red light.

Ah, Voldemort had opened the connection on his side. Harry smirked. Perfect, exactly what he wanted- an invitation. He only had to act fast enough, before Voldemort could invade his mind, and for what Harry wanted to do, he needed the occlumency shields down on both sides.

Taking a deep breath, Harry placed the box at the edge of the basin, then he reached out with his magic and wrapped it around the grey liquid, lifting it out. It looked a little bit like one of Trelawney's crystal spheres. Then he lifted the red and green mass with the black lightning bolt wound in the centre out of the box and positioned it under the liquid ball representing Voldemort's soul.

Outside of his mindscape he felt the sweat forming in his forehead.

Inside, Harry slowly brought the liquid and the black lightning bolt wound nearer to each other. The moment they connected a bright light flashed and Harry had to close his eyes.

Shaking from the strain on his magic he directed the soul liquid to the strand connecting himself with Voldemort. Immediately, the soul began to fight against his constraints and Harry led it along the connection through the black wound and then opened his tight grip, letting the soul find its own way.

The backlash of emotions coming through the connection when the big soul piece reached, connected and merged with the piece in Voldemort's body spoke of joy and happiness, but also sadness because they were still not whole. The magic backslash threw Harry from his mind and into unconsciousness.

* * *

At Malfoy Manor Lord Voldemort screamed as the pieces of his soul came back through the connection with Potter and merged with the small piece left in his body. With it came a rush of emotions and revelations and a surge in his magic, that overtaxed his mind. Crumpling in his armchair, Lord Voldemort fell into blissful darkness.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you for reading. Please review and let me know what you think.**

Many thanks to a-bit-of-madness for helping to improve my spelling and grammar.

First published: 8th of March 2018

Last edited: 23th of October 2018


	3. The second letter

**Disclaimer:** Still nothing in the Harry Potter universe is mine, everything belongs to the wonderful magician J.K. Rowling and the only thing I gain is getting the plot bunnies out of my head.

 **AN:** Wow, thank you all for those wonderful reviews and to everyone who followed and favoured. You guys are the best.

This chapter is now beta'ed by the wonderful a-bit-of-madness.

Have fun reading.

 **On with the story**

* * *

 **Chapter 3: The second letter**

Harry woke with a groan, a severe headache, pounding in his skull. It took him several minutes to realise that the pounding was not only happening in his head. Someone was banging on his door.

The loud and shrill voice of his Aunt Petunia cut through the haze of his splitting headache and the ringing in is ears. It took Harry some time to make sense of the words.

"Get up! You have 10 minutes in the bathroom and then make breakfast." The sound of a dozen different locks opening followed and then Harry heard footsteps retreating down the stairs.

Harry opened his eyes, blinking away the tears which threatened to gather as the early morning light caused another ripple pain behind his forehead. Concentrating on his breathing for a moment Harry opened his eyes again…slowly. Only then did he realize that he was laying on the floor, which was quite uncomfortable.

Fucking fantastic, what a wonderful way to begin the day.

Harry gritted his teeth and got up, fighting off a wave of nausea and dizziness as he did. His whole body ached and cried out in pain with every movement as he made his way to the bathroom across the hallway.

After using the loo and splashing his face with cold water, the world slowly started coming into focus. He sighed as he glanced into the mirror. He looked horrible and tired and sick. His naturally messy raven hair looked greasy and limp. His skin had a grey shine to it and his normally vibrant and intense green eyes were dull, glazed and weary. His cheeks were hollowed. He looked like he had one foot already in the grave.

Without another glance at the mirror, Harry shuffled into his bedroom, grabbed a clean tee and hurried down the stairs into the kitchen. His 10 minutes were already up and Aunt Petunia made her disapproval quite clear when she looked at him.

"Hurry up, Vernon will be down in 20 minutes and you better hope breakfast is on the table then or your Uncle will deal with you." Then she shooed him to the oven. Harry gave her a sneer. He knew that his Uncle would _deal_ with him regardless of getting breakfast ready in time or not.

Since coming home after fifth year and the scene at Kings Cross, Uncle Vernon had been harsh and vindictive with his treatment of Harry. He really didn't like to be threatened and he had punished Harry the moment they crossed the threshold of number four Privet Drive. The bruises from this first beating had only just begun fading.

In the summers before, Harry would have tried to be out of their way as often as possible and to not react to their taunting, putting a mask of indifference on. Vernon hated it when he couldn't get a reaction out of Harry.

He snorted. If the people at school knew that he put aside his Gryffindor persona and brought out his inner Slytherin to survive the summers, they would have a heart attack. But since developing his plan to use the connection with Voldemort to deal with the prophecy (and from there, all the rest of the shit going on in his life), he had found that he couldn't suppress his amusement anymore.

And it _was_ amusing, how Vernon went from red to purple in seconds if he thought something was not "normal"- or what he perceived as normal, because how the Dursleys treated him was definitely _not_ normal. Harry had realized this the first week of primary school. The crude remarks, the insults, the taunts and hateful words were now dripping off Harry. He had thought before that he had quite a thick skin, but he realized the words had still hurt somewhere deep inside. Now he found them funny and had a hard time not reacting amused all the time.

He was a little afraid he might transform into Draco Malfoy with all the sneering going on, but he couldn't help himself.

And why should he? He had a cruel, homicidal madman after his life, the wizarding world loved him in one moment only to throw him away the moment he did something they didn't like and labelled him an attention seeking lunatic. But still, the people expected him to kill one of the most powerful wizard of their time- a wizard who had far more experience and was proficient in the Dark Arts- while Harry was a teenager, not yet sixteen! Compared to this, the treatment from his relatives- as painful and horrendous as it was- was endurable.

Harry put a frying pan on the stove, took up a spatula and started to make breakfast, a mountain of bacon and eggs, buttered toast and lots of coffee. As an afterthought, he included some porridge with fruits for Dudley. He had come home, with a lot more muscles and less fat than the year before, and a new diet plan from his boxing trainer and the school nurse. Petunia had pursed her thin lips and complained about how her little Duddykins was still growing and growing boys needed their bacon, but for the first time Dudley had been stubborn concerning healthy food.

The diet plan was stuck to the fridge and Dudley refused to eat anything that wasn't on it. Vernon punished Harry every time he adhered to the diet plan because he thought he knew better than a nurse and was sure that Dudley needed his fatty food, but Dudley was grateful to Harry and tried to help him behind his parents back, bringing him food Petunia wouldn't miss and water. He even let him out of his room when Vernon and Petunia were not at home.

Harry heard the tell-tale stomping of Vernon coming down the stairs and hurried to put everything on the table. Petunia shooed him to the kitchen sink to start cleaning the pans. Harry only needed a short glance to Vernon to see that he was not in a good mood, which only got worse as Dudley came into the kitchen, sat down and happily started eating his porridge. He shot a murderous glance in Harry's direction, who couldn't completely suppress a sigh.

"Dudley, pack your stuff after breakfast, we will visit Aunt Marge over the next days. She is looking forward to see her favourite nephew for weeks now." Petunia smiled sweetly at her son, who didn't look pleased at the prospect of visiting Marge.

As Harry started to clean the table Dudley looked up.

"And Harry?"

Both his parents froze.

"What about the Freak?" Vernon grunted, his face colour changing to red. Petunia beamed at her son, he was such an angel to think of the freak, even if he shouldn't.

"We can't take him with us, you know this. Marge would never allow it. He will be staying here, in his room. So, you don't have to be afraid that he will go into your room and destroy it or steal something." Dudley looked horrified at his mother.

"But Mum…." Harry caught Dudley's eyes and shook his head. Dudley closed his mouth but didn't looked happy.

"Don't worry son, go now and pack your stuff." The moment Dudley was out of the kitchen, , Vernon grabbed Harry by his arm and shoved him into the wall.

"You heard us, we will be going to Marge's place for a few days. You will be staying in your room. No funny business, do you hear me?" He spat at Harry and squeezed his already bruised arm.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon." Harry drawled, not entirely sure if Vernon heard the sarcasm dripping. Perhaps he should check if Draco Malfoy was still alive and his ghost was not possessing him. Vernon narrowed his eyes and shoved him in the direction of the stairs.

"Go to your room and stay there."

.

Half an hour later, Harry heard the car leaving the driveway as he slouched in his bed. Petunia had given him a few bottles of water and a loaf of bread with some cheese. She hadn't looked happy to give him even this much. Vernon had come in, bellowed a few more threats, gave him an empty bucket with a mean grin and had looked the door behind him, every single lock on his door had been shut. Harry sighed., Really? A bucket? Prisoners had nicer facilities. But it didn't matter, or wouldn't matter in two days, if everything would go accordingly.

But it was fortunate that his relatives had left. He could send some of the letters now, instead of tonight. Getting up from the bed, Harry walked to Hedwig's cage and gently stroke her.

"Hey girl. I know you prefer to sleep during the day and you already flew a lot in the night, but are you up to delivering some more letters for me?" Hedwig opened her eyes and looked at him. Then she playfully nipped his finger and ruffled her feathers.

"Ok, I understand, let me get them." Harry kneeled on the floor and got the stack of letters out from under the floorboard. He took the first three and bound them to Hedwig's leg, in the order of delivery. Hedwig hooted in affirmation and hopped onto his arm.

"You are the best." Harry carried her to the window. He was not sure if Uncle Vernon even knew that the bars he had put there before Harry was home from Hogwarts were wide enough, that Hedwig could squeeze through them. Nevertheless, Harry was quite happy about it, he always felt guilty when Hedwig couldn't go flying during the summer, and now it was a huge advantage.

"Have a safe trip." With a final hoot, Hedwig took flight. Harry watched her for a few seconds, then he went back to bed and settled down for a nap. Before he closed his eyes, he checked the soul connection, but Voldemort was still quiet at the other end, which could mean anything, from unconsciousness to occlumency shields. Deciding that he couldn't do anything in the moment, Harry let himself drift to sleep.

* * *

Severus Snape, youngest Potions Master in Britain, Professor at Hogwarts school for Witchcraft and Wizardry and Head of Slytherin House was in a fabulous mood. The small smile which had settled itself on his features would have sent most of his students screaming, but nobody was there to see this, albeit crooked, but happy smile and it was because of this absence Severus allowed himself a smile- he wouldn't have to see any of the dunderheads till September.

He had a wonderful morning, drinking his favourite black coffee while reading the newest issue of _Potions Progress_ , studying an article about the newest improvements of the _wound-closing Potion_ , a Potion used for healing self-inflicted wounds which couldn't be closed by medical charms because the inherent magic was preventing it. But the potion was far from perfect, most of the time the self-inflicted wounds would close only for a short time, depending on the magical power and the intent of the patient.

Severus hummed while checking the formula of the Potion and comparing it with the changes the author of the article suggested. It could work, but there were several alternative ingredients and brewing procedures coming to his mind which could improve the potions beyond what the author suggested. Yes, after breakfast he would check his ingredients cupboard to be sure he had what he needed and then try each alternative.

Severus could already feel his excitement building up. There was nothing as stimulating as potions research. He had no real passion for teaching, only the upper years were really worth it, research would always be his favourite. It was no surprise, therefore, that he preferred the summer holidays over every other time of the year. The thrill of advancing into territories only a select few gifted individuals in the world could go, the satisfaction of finding a solution to an especially hard puzzle and the feeling of immersing oneself completely into a subject, this was what Severus lived for.

A hoot distracted him from his reading. While his mind had been occupied by the article and his possible brewing session, an owl had entered his kitchen through the open window. A beautiful snowy owl he recognized, he had seen her many times snatching bacon from her owner.

Severus' good mood dimmed slightly, what could his least favourite student want from him during the summer holidays? He narrowed his eyes. Had the ungrateful, spoiled little whelp found trouble only a few weeks after the mess he had produced in the Ministry of Magic? And why would he write to him? For a few seconds Severus thought of ignoring the letter, but the owl hooted once more, took flight and landed on his shoulder. Severus sighed and untied the letter the animal was impatiently holding out to him. Before he could read the names on the other letters tied to the owl's leg, she took flight and left through the same window she had entered through.

Sighing again Severus looked at the letter. It was simply addressed to

 _Professor Severus Snape_

in the familiar chicken-scrawl of Harry Potter. Shoving his unease aside, Severus opened the letter and began to read.

 _Dear Professor Snape_

 _I know I have never written to you, but current circumstances call for it. I gained some important knowledge and initiated plans you need to be made aware of. And no, I couldn't have told Dumbledore, because he is not the right man for it._

 _But first, I really want to apologize for my juvenile and unjust behaviour. It was immature of me to breach your privacy in the way I did. There is no reasonable explanation for my behaviour,_ _especially after you cut short on your free time to teach me._ _And I want to apologize for the behaviour of my father. He was a bully and that is something I never could agree with. I had a talk with Sirius about their behaviour and was outraged to see that_ _he didn't think they_ _were in the wrong._

 _So now_ _that that is out_ _of my system…_ _ **Snape you are no better!**_

 _You belittled an eleven-year-old boy, who only learned a month before that he was a wizard, because he couldn't answer your questions. Nobody else could answer them, only Hermione, but that doesn't count. Over the years you, who knew what it's like to be bullied, made my life at Hogwarts even_ _harder than it already was._

 _You went from being bullied, to being the bully._

 _You are a cruel, resentful_ _and bitter man, and because I look like one of your tormentors and you couldn't separate me from him, you used me to get your petty revenge. You acted under the prejudice that I was just like my father, and how could I be different if I LOOK like him. Did you never realize that I didn't even_ _ **know**_ _the man? How could I behave like him if I never knew him, never heard of him before my eleventh birthday?_

 _You are the adult, and yet you never behaved like one. You took great pleasure in telling me over and over again that I was as arrogant, spoiled, stupid and awful as my father. It hurt, a lot…_

 _As a child I always hoped that my parents were perhaps not dead and would_ _be coming for_ _me. I dreamed of them, but I never had a clear picture because I knew_ _ **nothing**_ _of them, not even their names, till I started Hogwarts. There I met people who could tell me about my parents, they always told me how beautiful and fierce my mother was and how brave and fun and intelligent my father._

 _So, he became something like a hero for me, especially because I never knew him, and I was so proud._

 _But you, you destroyed that._

 _I could live with the taunts and belittlement (Merlin knows I have enough practice) but you managed to make me doubt him, and after the pensieve incident I started to feel ashamed of being James Potter's son. You made me feel disgusted by his behaviour. I hope that makes you happy at least…I hope it was worth it, the greatest revenge you could inflict on a dead_ _man who can't fight back anymore._

 _And it is quite funny, that all your insults were based on false facts, because nobody would consider me spoilt if they knew of my home life._

 _Phew, I really needed to get that out of my system._

 _Now back to why I wrote this letter._

 _Professor, do you know what a Horcrux is? I will summarize it, just in case. A Horcrux is Dark Magic of the evilest kind, in which a fragment of a soul is embedded by a witch or a wizard into an object, therefore granting immortality. They are created by committing murder, followed by a ritual and a spell, during which the soul is split in half. There are horrendous consequences to splitting one's soul, insanity,_ _reduced accessibility of the magical core and crippling of the magical strength are some of them. Go to Grimmauld place and use the Black library, there are some books which are quite informative on the subject._

 _Voldemort created a Horcrux when he was sixteen._

The anger which had been built while reading evaporated instantly. Severus paled. How could someone do something so repulsive as splitting his own soul? He felt a wave of nausea pass over him. Taking a gulp of his now cold coffee, he read on.

 _But that wasn't enough for him. He was on his way to insanity, which made him even more paranoid and afraid of death. Someone could destroy his Horcrux, so why not make a second one? But he didn't stop with two. By 1981 he had made five, and that's the reason he didn't die when the death curse rebounded of me and hit him. With every Horcrux, he split the soul he had left in half, and eventually went insane, we can only be happy that in this condition he also couldn't utilize his complete magical strength._

 _Why am I telling you this? Because I gave them back. I found a way to merge the five horcruxes and send them to him. In this moment the soul fragments should merge with the one in his body, making him sane again, at least I hope so._

 _But he is still not mortal. Sometime during the Summer of the Quidditch world cup he made another Horcrux: Nagini. I don't know how this effected the snake, but I couldn't remove the soul piece in her. First, because she is always at his side, it would have been too obvious what_ _I was doing and_ _second, because she is a living being with her_ _own_ _soul, therefore_ _the soul fragment is more tightly anchored/intertwined than the ones in the inanimate objects. To g_ _et rid of this Horcrux, Nagini must be killed, because to destroy a Horcrux the object containing the soul fragment must be damaged to a point beyond any and all physical or magical repair_. _Then, and_ _only then, will_ _Voldemort be mortal again._

 _But I recommend checking on Voldemort first. I know you are a dark wizard and I know that dark doesn't equal evil._

 _Yes, I know, shocking, the Golden Boy of Gryffindor doesn't equate dark with evil._

 _I even approve of some of the points in his agenda. So, if he is sane again, and back on track with his original goals, one of them the fight for the use of Dark Arts, I am sure you would be on his side, if you have the opportunity to choose and that's the reason I am writing this to you. Dumbledore would either send you to kill Nagini and me to kill Voldemort outright, or he will try to manipulate a confrontation. He may be one of the greatest wizards alive, and I respect him, but I am not blind to his manipulations._

 _So please, go to Voldemort. Check if the merging was successful, at least. If he is sane again, he can be reasoned with. I really don't want to be a murderer because of a prophecy. If you need a bargaining chip_ _, here is the whole thing:_

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...

born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...

and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...

and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...

the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...

 _I don't think I have to fulfil it, because I already vanquished him as a baby. I already sent him a letter. Could be that he is in a piss poor mood because of it, but hey, I never said I would play nice…._

 _Now, you will ask yourself how I know all of this. It is actually quite simple. On Halloween 1981, when Voldemort murdered my parents and tried to murder me, his already damaged soul split again and the soul piece_ _attached itself_ _to the only living being it could find – me, making me a Horcrux. Because he couldn't perform the ritual and the spell afterwards, though, I'm not a complete one, and the soul piece in me is more a parasitic fragment_ _._

 _Over the last months, I used the soul connection between us and the other Horcruxes to find out everything I could (having easy access to his mind helped_ _, I only had to be sneaky). I used the connection to gather the pieces of his soul and send them to him._

 _In the next days I will attempt to destroy the fragment in me so that he only has Nagini left as a security net. I will tell Dumbledore in a letter what I did, but not all the details_ _I told you, and not my position concerning_ _some points in Voldemort's agenda. And I will tell one more person, no one too obvious, everything, even some stuff I didn't tell you. Use this and the prophecy to get Voldemort to hear you out._

 _I wish you all the best, Professor._

 _Goodbye,_

 _Harry Potter._

* * *

 **AN:** Please review and let me know what you think.

Thanks to a-bit-of-madness for helping to improve my spelling and grammar.

First published: 19th of March 2018

Last edited: 23th of October


	4. Severus Snape

**Disclaimer:** Nope, my name is still not Rowling, so nothing is mine.

 **AN:** I am not sure if I will update frequently, but I will do my best, but theoretically (and poor me also practically) I have a PhD thesis to write and finish.

If someone wants to read a letter to a specific character, let me know and I will try to fit it into the story.

Many thanks to all you reviewed, followed and favoured, it makes me crazily happy to see that people are interested in what I write.

This chapter is now beta'ed, by the wonderful a-bit-of-madness.

Have fun reading.

 **On with the story**

* * *

 **Chapter 4:** **Severus Snape**

Severus Snape didn't know what he should think or feel… No, it was more that he felt too many emotions at once, the most prominent of which were confusion and irritation. He looked down at the crumpled letter in his hand, eyes scanning the paragraphs. The first parts shocked him. Was this real? Had Potter really apologised? Should he believe it? No, never! A Potter apologising to a Snape, a Gryffindor to a Slytherin? His shock changed to anger. Potter only wanted to mock him, he was sure.

The next paragraph fuelled his anger into absolute fury. How _dare_ he accuse Severus of not being able to separate the prat from his father! It was clear as day that he was **entirely** like James Potter, strutting around arrogantly …Severus paused, one sentence catching his eye and taking his breath away, bringing up memories tainted by fury and shame he wished he could forget.

 _You went from being bullied to being the bully._

Potter saw him as a bully.

After his childhood and what had happened in Hogwarts with the Marauders, he never wanted to be associated with anything similar to bullying. But here, _Potter_ of all people, accused him of being a bully. Yes, he was meaner to the other houses, but his Slytherins were scorned, especially by the Gryffindors and someone had to bring down the boy a peg or two.

Anger came up again, eyes reading over the next paragraphs, his brain took a moment to catch up to itself…...

Severus had been accused of being many things, most of them true, but he was anything but stupid. Even with his exceptional intelligence, though, it took a few minutes for clarity to find him. He never had thought of the prat as _Harry_ Potter, only ever as Potter, which was always associated in his mind with _James_ Potter. This moment of clarity opened his mind to a flood of memories. With all his skills as an accomplished Occlumens, Severus took hold of his emotions and brought up his shields.

Perhaps some of the boy's accusations were not completely farfetched. Yes, the boy had never met his father, but surely someone had told him all about the glorious Gryffindor….

 _How could I behave like him if I never knew him, never heard of him before my eleventh birthday?_

Severus snorted contemptuously, the prat didn't think he would believe this lie, did he? Why should the boy-who-lived never have heard of his father before he was eleven? Surely his loving and adoring family would have told him all about his heroic parents. With whom had Dumbledore left him again? Because of the blood protections it couldn't have been someone from the Potter side, even if there were still some left. So, the only one left was….

Severus paused again…a memory surfaced of two little girls, memories he had buried so deep he had practically forgotten them. Guilt and shame tried to destroy his hold on his emotions.

Lily…

And then he remembered Petunia, Lily's older sister, her jealousy and disgust upon discovering that Lily was a witch. How spiteful and vicious she had been after Lily went to Hogwarts. Had the boy grown up with Petunia? She was the only one left, but she hated everything magical. Dumbledore wouldn't… or would he?

Mentally shaking his head, Severus went back to reading the letter again. It was not important how the boy had grown up. Yes, he could admit to being cruel to the boy and that he mostly saw his father in him, but he was still sure that his assessment of the boy's character so far had been right. He was arrogant, strutted around like he owned the castle, behaved like he was above the rules and better than everybody, flaunted his celebrity status and showed disrespect to adults. Someone had to bring him down a peg or two, someone had to show him that not all people will fall over for him.

Yet, there was a tingle of uncertainty left in Severus and even a little guilt as he read again how he made Potter ashamed of his own father. He knew that feeling, Tobias was never a father he could have been proud of, and for a child that was something awful to feel about his own father.

He quickly went back to reading, shoving his memories of his own father behind thick shields.

 _nobody would consider me spoilt if they knew of my home life._

There it was again, that tingle of unease. Severus tried to banish it to the back of his mind. It had nothing to do with him.

Reading about the Horcruxes made him want to vomit. He had heard how brilliant the Dark Lord had been once. He only had glimpsed it a few times himself though, before the Dark Lord had fallen to insanity and begun to wage a war. If what the boy wrote was true, it was his Lords own fault he'd gone insane and he'd started on the path at sixteen. Why? Because of a simple fear of death? There would have been other ways to prevent dying. And the boy gave them back? The boy himself was a Horcrux? So, he had to die to get rid of the Dark Lord once and for all, did Dumbledore know? Severus was not entirely sure, but normally not much went on without the Headmaster knowing. Did he _want_ the boy to die? Had he raised his Golden Boy like a lamb for the slaughter?

Nausea was rising, when the picture of another pair of green eyes, dulled by death, hovered in his mind. Would the last remains of Lily vanish while he sat by and did nothing?

Severus drew a deep breath.

But if the Dark Lord was sane again, had his full magical and intellectual capacity back, could he be persuaded to let the boy live? The one responsible for his downfall, but also the one to restore his sanity? Perhaps if the boy decided to be neutral... Would it be enough for the Dark Lord?

And what would it mean for Severus? Potter had given him in this letter everything he needed to either destroy the Dark Lord forever or go back to the Dark faction. He had never completely belonged to the Light, his magic was inclined more to the grey and dark parts of magic, and the original goals were the reasons Severus joined the Dark Lord. His dreams of equal rights to all branches of magic- light, grey and dark. A lot of useful potions had been banned, because they were considered dark. Rituals and traditions banned and lost. So much knowledge buried and destroyed…

How would it be to stand on the side of a sane Dark Lord, fighting for these goals, not on a war field, but on the political battlefield, with wit, manipulations and subtlety? The way a true Slytherin would do it…

Lucius' father had told them how charming and convincing the Dark Lord had been once, combined with a brilliant mind, he could accomplish more that way than with an all-out war.

Before he dared to get his hopes up, though, he should see his Lord as the boy suggested and verify if he had his sanity back and the merging had been successful. If not, he had to talk to Dumbledore and try to plan what to do with the last two Horcruxes, Nagini and Potter himself.

It was strange how accurate Potters assumption of Severus' decisions were. He even agreed with his presumption about Dumbledore. So, the boy was not blind to the headmaster's manipulations, who would have guessed…

And to give him the whole prophecy as a bargaining chip was quite a brilliant move on the boy's part. The Dark Lord was obsessed with hearing the whole one. Reading it made Severus blood freeze in his veins. If he only had heard it in its entirety the first time. It was clearly a sell-fulfilling prophecy. Perhaps the Dark Lord had been cautious and had waited to see which child would have been the bigger threat, but with his Lord so deteriorated into insanity at this time, Severus was not sure if the Dark Lord had chosen another course of action.

Severus sighed, there was no reason to cry over spilled milk.

 _In the next days I will attempt to destroy the fragment in me_

Severus frowned. Something in this sentence gave him an itch, like he knew the conclusion to a puzzle, but couldn't remember it.

 _And I will tell one more person, no one too obvious,_

Another ingenious idea, to have a backup. It was a rather Slytherin move, Severus shuddered. The thought of ANY Potter having enough of a brain to think and plan in a Slytherin way was disturbing.

Who would the boy tell? No one obvious, so the rest of the Golden Trio was out of the picture. Some of the other Members of the Weasley family? No, still too obvious of a choice. As well as some of his friends in Gryffindor. Perhaps the Lovegood child, she had stood by him in the last school year and fought by his side in the Ministry. Still too obvious…so someone Potter didn't associate with on a daily basis…

Severus stopped his musing, he had better things to do. He looked at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. It was midday. He had been sitting here for hours and thinking about this blasted letter.

He stood up, made himself a cup of tea, sipping it slowly while trying to decide what to do next. But even with his occlumency shields on full force his thoughts and emotions were in turmoil, it was never a good idea to make important decision in such a state of mind. He needed to calm down. So, Severus went and did what he always did to get his mind off things, he opened the door to his potions lab and started brewing.

* * *

Harry woke from a wonderful and relaxing nap. He blinked, stretched and put his glasses on. A quick glance confirmed that Hedwig was still out. The sun was high, somewhere around noon, looking around his room, Harry sighed. There was nothing to do. He had written all the letters to everybody he could think of. He only could wait for the aftermath of the first letters and the soul merging.

A quick visit into his mindscape showed him that the connection with Voldemort was still shut down. The string connecting them was much thicker than before, not surprising considering Harry had sent him the main part of his soul back. He carefully prodded the string, trying to listen and feel what was happening at the other end. As Voldemort was probably still unconscious, there wasn't much. Harry wasn't sure what a newly merged soul should feel like, but the soul at the other end felt warmer- a little like a wound in process of healing- and much stronger. He would have to wait and see what happened when Voldemort woke up.

Coming out of his mind, Harry rubbed his eyes, took a sip from a water bottle and lay down again. The house was blissfully quiet, and even if he would have preferred not to be locked in his room, he was happy to have a few Dursley free days. Perhaps he should do his summer homework. After another nap, Harry thought while closing his eyes, drifting back to sleep.

* * *

Somewhere in Scotland, a snowy white owl reached a magnificent old castle and circled around one of the towers. One window was open, and she flew into the circular room beyond it. Nobody occupied the office in the moment, so she landed on the enormous, claw-footed desk, leaving the letter addressed to

 _Professor Albus Dumbledore_

Behind, and left through the open window again. Deciding on a short break, Hedwig flew to the owlery for some food and water and a short nap. A few hours later, well rested, she was soaring through the sky again, towards the recipient of the last letter she carried.

* * *

Brewing had calmed his mind, making it easier to decide what he should do. So, in the early afternoon, Severus Snape climbed out of the fireplace reserved for family and close friends at Malfoy Manor. No one was in the reception room, but he was sure Lucius would be here any minute, alerted by the wards of his arrival. Nobody could use this fireplace who wasn't allowed and as Narcissa, Lucius and Draco were at the Manor, only a handful of possible people remained.

The door opened, and Lucius strode inside, pausing as he saw Severus and smiled.

"Severus, to what do we owe the honour of your presence?" Lucius gave a short bow and gestured for Severus to follow him. Walking beside one of the few people Severus would call a friend, even if never out loud, he mused how he should approach the subject.

"How is our Lord today?" Severus asked calmly. Lucius went stiff but didn't falter in his steps. Since the Battle in the Ministry their Lord was in a particularly violent and malicious temper and had only gotten Lucius out of Azkaban after a short week to punish him for his failure to retrieve the prophecy as he saw fit. Lucius had only survived the punishment because of Narcissa's and Rabastan's profound knowledge and skills in magical healing.

"The last time I saw our Lord was yesterday. The wards around his wing are up, so it seems he does not wish to be disturbed." Lucius answered steadily.

"But he is still in the manor?"

"Yes, the house-elves assigned to him didn't mentioned that he left, and the wards didn't report someone leaving. He should be in his study."

"Good, I have to talk to you and Narcissa."

Now Lucius glanced at him sideways, trying to read Severus expression, which was carefully blank. "She is in the summer tea room."

For a few minutes they walked silently side by side.

"Do I have to send Narcissa and Draco to the safe house?" Lucius questioned softly, voice nearly a whisper.

"Not at this exact moment in time," Severus reassured him. "But I've acquired some… interesting information. As I have made up my mind how I would proceed, I am not completely willing to take the burden for this decision alone, so I am in need of a second opinion from someone I completely trust. Even, so I am sure you will try to use the information for your own gain, you will think of your family first and decide accordingly."

Lucius hummed in acknowledgement and opened the door at the end of the hall for Severus to step through.

The summer tea room was painted in soft pastel colours, bathed in sunlight from the huge floor-to-ceiling windows which were all open to let in a soft breeze, and filled with plants and flowers of all kinds. In the far corner was a round table, covered with cakes, pastries and a steaming teapot, and encircled by four chairs. Narcissa sat on one of the chairs reading a book and sipping occasionally from her cup. She looked up from her reading as the both men approached the table, a small smile softening her aristocratic, pale features and warming her pale blue eyes. She stood up and greeted Severus with a soft peck on the cheek.

"What a pleasant surprise to see you today, Severus. I hope you are well?" She enquired while gesturing for him to sit down. A house-elf appeared and set teacups in front of Lucius and Severus. Narcissa poured the tea, sat down and looked at him questioningly.

Severus took a sip from his tea and steeled himself for the upcoming discussion.

"This morning I came across information which could mean the end for this war. In favour of either of the sides…

* * *

It was in the late afternoon when Harry woke from his nap. He fumbled for his glasses, yawned and ran his fingers through his hair, which was already sticking up in all directions, making it even messier, not that anybody could see it. He felt well rested and but a little bored. Still nothing more to do than wait.

Minding his back, Harry got up from his bed and removed his tee, inspecting the welts and cuts in the old, slightly broken mirror in his wardrobe. He winced and sighed, Vernon really hadn't held back this time. His back was a mangled mess of crusted wounds, deep red cuts and bruises in every possible shade, but at least nothing was open or bleeding, and it didn't look like anything was infected.

Harry sighed and pulled his tee on again, then settled on the floor and got some food from under the loose floorboard, savouring every bite and the feeling of a full stomach.

Searching for something to do, Harry looked through the pile of schoolbooks he had got from his school trunk the second night he had been back from Hogwarts. The Dursleys had been away for dinner and Harry had been locked in his bedroom as usual, but Vernon had only used the normal door lock and after the rescue during the summer before second year, the twins had showed Harry how to pick a lock. So, Harry had crept down to his old cupboard, picked the lock and grabbed what he could: quills, ink, parchment, a few schoolbooks, his wand, the invisibility cloak, his firebolt and the photo album with the pictures of his parents. Thank Merlin, Vernon never checked the cupboard and didn't look under Harry's bed, because the schoolbooks really didn't fit under the floor.

Taking out his Potions book, Harry got comfortable on his bed. He chuckled as he tried to imagine Snape's face if he ever found Harry reading a book about Potions for fun – or in this case, out of sheer boredom. Settling down, Harry started reading.

* * *

"Are you trying to tell me that our Lord found a way to secure his immortality and performed the required rituals without knowing the consequences, which led to insanity, magical and emotional instability, and blocking of the magical core?" Narcissa looked shocked, her fair complexion paling even more than usual. Lucius looked close to throwing up. Both fixed him with wide, horrified eyes, nearly pleading with him to tell him it was all a joke – a terrible joke.

"Yes, that sums it up quite nicely." Severus sighed.

"And most of these… live anchors, which you don't want to tell us what exactly they are, are destroyed?" Lucius inquired.

"Yes, only two are left. An attempt to destroy one more will be done shortly. And I know exactly where the last one is. And I have the means to destroy it."

"But….?" Lucius looked at his friend.

"If the information I got is correct, it could be that the destruction of nearly all of these anchors undid the damage to our Lords mind and magic. There is a high possibility that our Lord is sane again and has his magical strength back. But I am sure he will be none too pleased if all of them are destroyed, even if he is in his right mind again."

Lucius and Narcissa shared a brief look.

"So, what do you think? Should I destroy the last anchor, make the Dark Lord mortal and therefore give Dumbledore the possibility to defeat him once and for all? Or should I leave the anchor alone for now, in the hope that the Dark Lord is sane again and stops this meaningless killing and destruction." Severus took a sip of his tea.

"Both decisions could go terribly wrong…." For some time only silence filled the room. Then Narcissa took his hand and fixed him with a determined glare.

"Severus, you have a brilliant mind, and, in most situations, you can overrule your own emotions and make the logical choice. I am sure whatever decision you came to, we would approve. As I see it, the war must be stopped, too many magical lives were lost already, but we shouldn't lose sight of our own desires and aspirations. Yes, if the situation remains as it is now, Dumbledore and the Light side would be the better choice, and it would be your duty to end the bloodshed as fast as possible. But if the Dark Lord really is sane again, our side has a chance. A chance to survive without giving up our ways, without repression, without the need to deny our nature. Abraxas told us how it was in the beginning. How brilliant and powerful he was, how devoted and determined, before he changed and started the war. If there is even a slight possibility that this could be true, you must confirm it. You should seek out our Lord and gauge his sanity." Narcissa let go of his hand, leaned back into her chair and kept eye contact.

"Thank you." Severus set down his teacup, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted now that Narcissa and Lucius had come to the same conclusion as him.

"Lucius would you accompany me to our Lord?" Severus stood up and waited.

Narcissa and Lucius had a silent conversation, then Lucius gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek and rose from his chair. "Certainly, my friend."

Severus gave Narcissa a last nod and walked, with Lucius at his side, out of the room. Neither spoke a word as they walked through the manor. They stopped shortly as Lucius had to dismantle the wards around the wing the Dark Lord had chosen, which was only possible because Lucius was the master of the manor. Before they reached the door of the study, Severus took a deep breath. Bringing up his occlumency shield at full force, shifting his expression into one of absolute neutrality, he knocked at the door.

There was no answer. Even after a second louder knock, so Severus opened the door carefully. If the Dark Lord remained as he was, entering his study without invitation would be a death sentence, but as no dark curse came flying, Severus entered the room, Lucius directly behind him.

At first glance, the room looked empty, save Nagini sleeping in front of the smouldering fire. Then they saw a figure in one of the armchairs and approached it.

Both men gasped at what they saw. It was certainly the Dark Lord, but his features had changed since the last time they saw him. He still looked thin, but not unnaturally skeletal, and a thin layer of dark curls was visible atop his head. They couldn't say if his eyes had changed, because he seemed to be unconscious, but he had the base of a nose and his nostrils were round, not slits anymore. All in all, he had lost his snake-like features and looked nearly human again.

Severus and Lucius looked at each other in astonishment and shock and a little hope.

So, the splitting of his soul had also disfigured him, mused Severus, but it seemed not everything was changed back due to the soul merging. Severus wasn't sure if it was because two soul pieces were missing, or if Pettigrew had butchered the resurrection potion two summers ago. It intrigued him and perhaps, with his Lord's permission, he could try and find a solution to reverse the effects.

Carefully, Severus stepped nearer. The Dark Lord's breathing was deep and steady, and he didn't stir as Severus quietly called out to him so, he picked one of his hands up and checked for a pulse. Satisfied to find it strong and regular, Severus cast a simple diagnostic charm. Nothing seemed amiss, so he levitated the Dark Lord out of the armchair and moved him to one of the settees, which Lucius had transfigured into a bed. Both men settled into armchairs, waiting for their Lord to awaken, and grasping to the slightest glimmers of hope.

* * *

 **AN:** Thanks for reading, please review and let me know what you think.

Many thanks to a-bit-of-madness for helping to improve my spelling and grammar.

First published: 4th of April 2018

Last edited: 29th October 2018


	5. Sane again?

**Disclaimer:** Nothing in the Harry Potter universe is mine. Everything belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling. I only want to play in her playground a little bit.

 **AN:** Who would have thought that the letter to Dumbledore would be this hard to write? I tried not to be too accusing, I don't want to write a Dumbledore bashing story, he will not be the bad guy.

Many thanks to all you reviewed, followed and favoured, you guys are the best. Your comments made me grin happily for hours.

If someone wants to read a letter to a specific character, let me know and I will try to fit it into the story.

This chapter is now beta'ed by the wonderful a-bit-of-madness, many thanks for that.

Have fun reading.

 **On with the story.**

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Sane again?**

The first thing which registered in his foggy mind was that he was feeling warm. This revelation seemed to open the path for more. He could feel his body, which felt heavy and itchy, especially around his head. Then the pain surfaced, somewhere centred at his chest, and spread throughout his body. He groaned as a pounding headache split his head nearly in two. Somewhere near him he heard the rustling of clothing. So, he was not alone. What had happened? He tried to remember. He remembered the feeling of fury and anger dominating his thoughts and actions for a long time, his mind so foggy that no other emotion could have pierced through it. Then something about a letter…he couldn't recall what the content of the letter had been…who had send it? Had the letter been cursed? No, he was sure he would have detected a curse. But he felt different, his mind clear and his emotions calmer.

"My Lord?" A cautious voice whispered…who was it?

The splitting headache prevented every attempt to identify the voice, he groaned again.

"Are you in pain, my Lord?" The voice asked. "I have a pain-reliever here, my Lord."

Ah…

Someone carefully lifted his head, he could feel the cold glass of a vial against his lips and then a cold liquid was purred in his mouth. In the moment the portion reached his stomach the pain diminished to a light throb in the background. Sighing silently, he opened his eyes, giving them a few moments to adjust to the light, the he sat up and focused on the two men in his study. Severus and Lucius both kneeled in front of him, head bowed, waiting. He could see the tension from the way they held their bodies, the stiff necks, the carefully controlled breaths. Why were they so tense? They were waiting for something, but what? Puzzled he looked around, his gaze fell on a piece of parchment on the table…something clicked in his mind and a flood of memories crashed into him.

The letter from Potter… the boy a horcrux… the possible consequences of splitting his soul… and then the pain…

The fog in his mind had lifted. As hard as it was to admit, the boy had been right. He had spiralled into insanity… he blanched as he remembered in horrendous details his erratic behaviour since his third, perhaps even second horcrux. And the numbness of his emotions after he created the diary at sixteen, which were now swirling inside him, uncontrollable. Shame and fury at his own stupidity, guilt when he thought about what he had done, but also delight in having his mind and magical power back.

He sneered, he could have done without the emotions coming back to him, so he brought up his Occlumency shields, putting all emotions behind them. Now was not the time to sort them out.

Oh, how stupid he had been, how foolish and arrogant. He would need time to sort his memories and see what he had done. Did he really start a war? Spilling irreplaceable magical blood? How pointless. He couldn't archive anything in this way. Thank Merlin he had his mind back. He sighted, it seemed he owned the Potter boy a depth. Whatever he had done, it had been effective. He tried to remember what Potter had written in the letter… giving him back his soul…

He nearly forgot to breath out of shock. Potter undid his horcruxes, without destroying the soul parts once and for all, and somehow, he had send them to him.

Yes…

He could feel the warm humming of his soul. It felt complete, but one look inside if him showed him that he still was connected to Nagini and Potter. So, he had two Horcruxes left, and they were the smallest pieces, so he had nearly all his soul back.

How had the boy done this?

Sighing, because now was not the moment to unravel this puzzle, he shifted his focus to the buzz of his magic.

Oh…

How didn't he realize how much he had lost…? He couldn't remember when he had felt so alive, so full of magic, swirling under his skin, begging to be used. The feeling of unadulterated power made him dizzy.

What else had changed? He remembered his looks after the resurrection. Had the disfigured snake-like appearance been a consequence of the horcruxes or of the ritual he had used?

Wandless and wordless he tried summoning a hand mirror. He wasn't prepared to feel the pure joy of his freed magic jumping to the task, overwhelming him. Instead of a hand mirror, a large full-body mirror appeared. Dumbfounded he stared. It seemed as he really needed to practice wielding the sheer amount of his magic.

Then he stood, examine his appearance in the mirror. He didn't look like a skeleton anymore, but he was still tall and thin. He lost the snake-like features and the deathly pale colour. He had lips and a nose! Fine, the beginning of a nose, the bridge was visible, and the nostrils were not slit like anymore… and hair, he'd grown hair again! It was only a fuzz of dark brown curls on top of his head, but it would grow further.

He still had deep red eyes, but he rather liked the darker tones of red in his iris.

He nearly looked like an older version of Tom Riddle again, the boy he once was. Even if he didn't like the name, he would enjoy looking handsome and charming again.

Carefully he touched his skin. It felt cold and dry, a little like snakeskin.

He would have to talk with Severus if there was a possibility to find a portion to give him back his complete nose and normal skin. Perhaps Pettigrew had butchered the portion at the resurrection ritual. He vanished the mirror and looked at the two, still kneeling men.

"Rise."

He scrutinized them as they stood. What had brought them to him? He hadn't summoned them through the dark mark, and he was sure that he had ordered to be left alone.

He could practically fell the nervousness coming from Lucius and Severus, even if their mask were very firmly in place, showing nothing on the surface. Neither had spoken a word or met his eyes. Narrowing his eyes, he looked through everything what had happened since yesterday, everything came back to the letter. Then realization hit him.

"Do I guess correctly that someone of you got a letter from the Potter boy, which contained critical information, leading you both to seek me out?" He calmly stated.

He caught a flicker of surprise and something more, deep and complex, in Severus eyes, one day ago he would never had caught, let alone recognized it.

"Yes, my Lord."

He sat himself in one of the armchairs and indicate to them to sit across from him. Leaning back, crossing one leg over the other

"In the early mornings I also got a letter from the boy. The content was… interesting. So, speak, what are the reasons for your visit. What did Potter tell you?" His dark red eyes stared into the black ones of Severus.

Severus composed himself and brought up his mental shields. It would be stupid to lay all the cards on the table. So far, the Dark Lord seemed to be calmer and saner, almost human as he examined himself in the mirror before. But even a sane Dark Lord was still a Dark Lord, and from the story Abraxas had told them, he had been the ultimate Slytherin, brilliant, cunning, resourceful, ambitious and determined. So, he would have to step carefully. As he had been missing most of his soul for the bigger part of his life, there was no possible way to determine at the moment how it had affected him and to be true, they didn't know this man before them. Had there been something of the charming Slytherin in Lord Voldemort? Was something of the insane, megalomaniac tyrant left? What of his homicidal, sadistic nature had come from splitting his soul and what from his own character?

Severus choose his words carefully, explaining in a neutral voice, leaving out the apology and the accusations. "Potter told me about the means you used, my Lord, to ensure your immortality. He explained what Horcruxes are, how they are created and the consequences of the creation of one. He told me that you created your first one with sixteen, and how many in total. He wrote about being an Horcrux himself and that Nagini was the last one you created. Somehow, he found a way to remove the soul pieces from their containers, expect from himself and Nagini, merge them and send them to you." The hope Severus had felt from the moment the Dark Lord had opened his eyes and hadn't immediately crucio'd them, flared up again, as he saw different emotions than anger and fury crossing over the Dark Lords face. First, he had seen fear, as Severus told him his Horcrux were undone, but then hope and delight as the Dark Lord at the thought to have two Horcruxes left, one of those his snake. His Lord never had displayed positive emotion apart from sadistic glee. It was a good sign. "By what means he didn't elaborate in detail, he only hinted that he could tap into the connection between the soul piece in him and the one in your body. He then suggested to seek you out and check if the merging was successful. He assumed that with a nearly whole soul you should have your sanity back, as well as the whole potential of your magic."

"And why would Potter, Dumbledore's golden boy, send **you** this letter? Why not tell Dumbledore?" The Dark Lord interrupted.

"It seems, that Potter is not completely blind to the headmaster's manipulations and he told that he didn't want to be a murderer. And he assumed, that I, as a Dark Wizard myself, would be more inclined to vilify your sanity and not use the obtained information instantly against you, my Lord. He even indicated that your original agenda could be something he would support."

"Sounds like the golden boy is not so golden as Dumbledore portrays. Perhaps he even could be strayed to our side". The Dark Lord mused.

"It sounds more, that Potter wants to be left alone, go neutral or something." Severus suggested.

"This would fit to his statement, that the letter would be the last time I would hear from him. He even said straightforwardly he would not care or interfere with my plans." Here the Dark Lord sounded almost bewildered. "If this is true I wouldn't have a problem with leaving him alone, as long as I'm sure he is safe, especially against Dumbledore. The boy is my Horcrux, and I want my soul piece to be protected." Something which felt strangely like relief bloomed in Severus. If the boy stayed out of the way and neutral and the Dark Lord really left him alone, Severus could uphold his oath to protect him, but could follow his own ambitions and desire as a Dark Wizard. He was not sure if he should tell at this point, that Potter was going to try to destroy the soul piece in himself. He decided against it, at least at this moment. Perhaps they could reason with Potter, it seemed like he wasn't a complete dunderhead, to let it stay where it was. As long as he was a Horcrux, he was valuable and precious to the Dark Lord, giving him protection. He needed to contact Potter in the next days, before he tried to destroy the soul piece in himself.

"It seems like Potter wants to tie up all loose ends. He told me he would give Dumbledore some information. And he hinted he would tell another person, which he didn't name, everything, so that apart from himself there would be one person out there holding the complete knowledge." He elaborated.

The Dark Lord looked pensively had him. He knew why Severus told him this, it was clear in his expression. Even if he would kill Severus and Lucius now, to cover everything up, there was a person out there beside Potter who had all the knowledge. It was quite a daring Slytherin move of the boy. But by now not even Severus was sure if Potter really was purely Gryffindor.

"It seems we have a lot of information to process. We will continue this tomorrow morning, be here after breakfast. You are dismissed." The Dark Lord told them brusquely.

Severus and Lucius stood. The Dark Lord closed his eyes and sank back against the armchair. Severus took a pain-reliever potion from his pocket and put it on the table. He had seen the signs of a headache forming, and a slight shaking of the hands, the previous pain-reliever had stopped working. Then he left and closed the door silently behind him.

Lucius, who hadn't said a word during the whole conversation, waited in the corridor and escorted him to the fireplace open to the floo network.

"Send my regards to Narcissa. I will be here tomorrow morning at seven sharp." Severus stepped into the fireplace and shouted out his destination. The expression he saw in Lucius eyes when he looked at him before he was whisked away, mirrored his own: hope.

* * *

He downed the potion immediately after the door closed behind the two wizards. The headache which had been building up during the conversation, subdued. He sighted in relief. It was to much, to much information, to many new, at least for him, emotions. It felt like his mind was an, so far, mostly unused, muscle and as he couldn't use most of it the last decades, he developed something similar to muscle pain.

He needed rest. He took up the letter from Potter, folded it and left his study, making direct line to his bedroom. Removing only his outer cloak, he climbed into the bed, putting the letter on the bedside table. He would sleep, then eat and drink a nice strong coffee and then he would read the letter again. He was sure, after some needed rest, and with his newfound sanity, some things would make more sense. He was asleep the moment he closed his eyes.

* * *

At Hogwarts school for Witchcraft and Wizardry Albus Dumbledore walked humming through the old stone corridors. So far, the day at been fairly well, surprisingly the _Daily Prophet_ mentioned him only twice today, and the rest of the day Albus had inspected the school with Minerva, where what needed to be replaced. Now, in the late afternoon, he was on the way to his office, hoping for a nice cup of tea. The gargoyle stepped aside as he approached him, and Dumbledore took the moving staircases to his office. Mentally planning what he had to do the next day, he opened his office door and stepped inside. As he called for a houseelf and ordered some tea, he discovered a letter laying innocently on his desk. He couldn't remember to put it there, so it must have arrived sometime during the day. It was simply addressed to

 _Professor Albus Dumbledore_

In a scrawl vaguely familiar.

Albus set down, frowned and picked it up. There was nothing indicating its sender, absentminded he took his teacup as it arrived and took a sip. He carefully sat the cup down and opened the letter. It was written in the same scrawl as the address, and it didn't take him long to recognized why the handwriting look familiar. **Harry** had written this letter. Puzzled he began to read, Harry never wrote him personal letters. As he read on, wonder, threat and mostly disbelieve filled him.

 _Dear Professor Dumbledore_

 _I am sure you are wondering why I am writing to you and I think this will be as hard for you to read as it was hard for me to write._

 _For the last five years I looked up to you as the powerful, wise and kind wizard you were. I still do, and perhaps I even feel something similar to family love, but especially in a family you shouldn't overlook the mistakes people make. I know that you have to see the bigger picture, that you can't concentrate on every little live out there. But why would you give me the impression you care for me beyond the headmaster and student relationship, but then toss me aside when I would have needed you the most?_

 _You are a great wizard, and especially because of this, your mistakes have far greater consequences, consequences you didn't anticipate. Or perhaps you choose not to see your mistakes._

 _Yes, you have a war to win and a dark evil wizard to beat, but what you forgot in all your planning and manipulations are the feelings and behaviour of the people you are using like chess pieces. What you seemed to not realize is, that you can't anticipate every move, because you don't know their inner feelings on which they choose to act._

 _I choose to act._

 _I came across important information since the start of the summer. Information I know you already knew or at least suspected. But as all the years before you choose not to tell me, even as they concerned me the most. And what were the consequences? Your decision of keeping everything crucial to yourself, and not explaining anything to the people around you, led to the loss of Sirius._

 _Yes, I am not giving myself the guilt anymore, but I also don't accuse you. You are a great wizard, but you are still human, and humans make mistakes._

 _And you have to make the hard decisions and think of the bigger picture, the greater good. I know you can't think only with your heart._

 _I understand, but understanding doesn't mean I have to accept it or forgive…_

 _If you had explained to me, that Voldemort could use the connection between us to spy on me and use me against you, I would have understood why you didn't wanted to see me the last school year. I wouldn't have been feeling alone and abandoned. I would have understood, that the visions Voldemort send me where deliberate and that he tried to set a trap. Sirius could be still alive._

 _But no, you didn't explain. Leaving me alone with my anger and rage, the terrifying visions and dreams. Instead you send Snape to teach me Occlumency. You gave the teacher who hates me and belittles me on a regular bases free access to my mind. It was torture you send me through, with every lesson I had to attend. And he failed, leaving me with a headache every time and more open for the dreams and visions._

 _The worst mistake though the last school year was how you let the Ministry into Hogwarts. You are the headmaster, your first priority should be the safety and welfare of your students. But Umbridge had free reign and she abused her power whenever she could. Did you know she used a blood-quill in her detentions? There is more than one student with permanent scars on their hand. You obsessed over Voldemort and lost sight of other important things, like the people you have to lead._

 _And did you really thought it was a good idea to tell a fifteen-year-old boy, who lost his godfather, the only living adult who had loved him without restrains, not even an hour ago, that the most powerful dark wizard was always after him? That everything that had happened was because he really was the target? That there had been a prophecy around the whole time. And that at the end of the day he either would be dead or a murderer._

 _And what did you after you told me this particular information? You send me back to the Dursleys, isolating me there. With no one to help me in my grief. Did you even know what happens there behind closed door? I hope not, but fear that you do. You said to me you know that you condemn me for ten dark years when you left me there. You did what was easy not what was right. It was easy leaving me there and never looking back. Again, a mistake which cost me, not you. But, still, I understand why you did it. At that moment you were not a headmaster, you were the leader in a war and you had this baby, destined to end it one and for all. You knew Voldemort would be coming back and that the magic of my mum's sacrifice would be the best chance of survival for me when I had to face him again. But my mum's sacrifice would have lived on in me, even if I had not grown up with my aunt. But you wanted to be sure, and the blood wards you could activate where a perfect bonus. But you could at least have checked on me. As angry and disappointed as I am with you, I know you really thought it would be the best course of actions then._

 _You are never intentionally cruel. I understand, but I am not sure if I can forgive._

 _Back to why I wrote this letter. I know that I am a Horcrux, I can only guess when and how you planned to tell me this little detail. And I know that there are more. I know that all Horcruxes must be destroyed before Voldemort can be killed. How did you planned to get rid of the one in me? Manipulating me to walk to Voldemort freely and let him kill me? One live for thousands of others? One live for the greater good? The sick thing is, I would do it, had I not found another way on my own._

 _That's another mistake you are making constantly. You don't trust anybody. You never asked someone other for help, you just assumed the solution you came up with are the only ones, the best ones._

 _What would you have done? Send me one a hunt to find the Horcruxes all over Britain? Did you even know what they were? Did you know how to destroy one?_

 _It would have taken a long time, time Voldemort would have used to rage a war._

 _So, I choose to act… on my own and my solution was swift._

 _I managed to collect the soul pieces and gave them back to Voldemort. He should be sane again, what he does next doesn't concern me. I think I did my duty to the Wizarding World, and I refuse to do more. Why should I? What did the Wizarding World ever do for me? One moment I am their hero, the next one they scorn me and call me crazy. I will leave the rest to you, headmaster. You are much more suited for leading the people against Voldemort, if he still is a threat. I was merely a pawn and I did my duty and wounded the king._

 _I don't want to have anything to do with the war and Voldemort anymore. And I am not entirely sure that I will come back to Hogwarts. It was the first real home I had, but the people occupying it are as fickle as the rest of Wizarding Britain._

 _Please don't come to visit me. You wanted to isolate me, then leave me my isolation._

 _I still love you like a grandchild, perhaps there lies the reason why your many mistakes which cost me so much, hurt me more than the insults from the population and the broken bones from my uncle. People we love can hurt us the most._

 _Goodbye_

 _Harry Potter._

* * *

Finally, Hedwig reached her destination. It was already dark, but a lot of the building's windows were lit by light. Following her instinct as a post owl, she circled around one part until she found the right window. It was closed, so she landed on the windowsill and tapped at the glass. Silence at the other side. She tapped again and heard footstep approach the window, which was opened. She didn't enter the room but merely presented the letter tied to her leg to the one standing in front of her. Bewildered bright eyes looked at her, while gentle hands removed the letter from her.

"I recognize you, but why would **he** send a letter to **me**!"

Hedwig nipped at the finger in front of her gently, hooted, spread her wings and left. Behind her the window was closed. The bright eyes still fixing the letter, filled with astonishment, bafflement and suspicion.

* * *

 **AN:** Thanks for reading, please review and let me know what you think.

Many thanks to a-bit-of-madness for helping to improve my grammar and spelling.

First published: 16th of April 2018

Last edited: 29th of October 2018


	6. The fourth letter

**Disclaimer:** Nothing in the Harry Potter universe is mine. Everything belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling. I only want to play in her playground a little bit.

 **AN:** Many thanks to all you reviewed, followed and favoured, you guys are the best. Your comments made me grin happily for hours (I think my colleagues think I am mad – ok madder).

So, here is the next chapter, and finally we met the recipient of the third letter. It is the longest chapter so far, because of the long letter. In the previous chapters I showed the reactions to the letter in the next chapter, not while it was read. I tried it like this, this time too, but it didn't feel right. So, you will get the first impressions of the reader in between the reading of the letter.

This chapter is now beta'ed by the wonderful a-bit-of-madness.

Have fun reading, I am really curious to hear what you think of it.

 **On with the story.**

* * *

 **Chapter 6: The third letter**

In the Hogwarts Headmaster's office Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk, Harry's letter clutched in his hands. He had read it multiple times by now and still too many thoughts swirled around in his mind.

Had he really misinterpreted the situation so badly? How had Harry obtained this information, and why did he decide not to seek help? The letter confirmed some of his worst theories and Harry's solution and explanation left him with more questions than answers.. Where had he made a mistake? When had he strayed so far from the right path, losing sight of the people he wanted to protect most and when had the consequences of his mistakes led to _this_ **-** a child trusting no one to help him carry the burden? Had his choices pushed Harry to be so distrustful, leaving him to act alone?

Yes, he tended to think more like a General. He tried to make decisions based on what was best for the majority of the magical population in Great Britain, but he thought he kept an eye at least on the people dear to him, Harry being one of those people.

When had the pressure to be the leader and the tension of Tom's return lead to him losing the sight of these people?

Albus Dumbledore was not above admitting his mistakes and he knew they often had greater consequences. He could not even deny the accusation that he used people like chess pieces.

As he looked back at his behaviour since Tom's resurrection, he realized his failures, especially concerning Harry. How could he have been so short-sighted so as not to see that his attempt to protect him by distancing himself from the boy would look like abandonment from Harry's side?

And what about the hint of his home life? Yes, the Dursley's were not as loving as he had initially hoped, and they certainly did not spoil Harry, but surely, they cared for him in their own way? They were family, after all, at the end of the day, but the letter implied something different…

And if he had overlooked and misinterpreted Harry's family situation, what else had he missed while focusing on the 'bigger picture'?

His eyes roamed over the letter again. A Blood-quill?

Anger filled him as he read Harry's account of his treatment under Umbridge's tenure, anger and guilt. This was his fault. His fault and his mistake. A mistake that had led to his students being hurt in the very halls where they should have felt safest. Why had Dolores thought it would be a good idea to use a torture method for detentions?

How had he not seen that the situation had been that bad? Oh, Dolores Umbridge would be ruined when he was finished with her. Nobody hurt his students like this.

His anger deflagrated instantly. His own actions had led to students being hurt at school, especially Harry. Why did it seem that all his good intentions regarding the boy always backfired?

He thought back to the conversation with Severus after the Pensieve incident during Occlumency lessons. Severus had told him that Harry had been arrogant and lazy, without any regard for the importance of the lesson. He had refused to continue and Albus had thought it would be too dangerous to take them up himself. Severus had been the only possible candidate to teach Harry Occlumency, the only one he had trusted enough.

In retrospect, Albus was not so sure. Perhaps he should have organized meditation lesson with Filius first. As a duelling champion he was capable of basic mediation and simple Occlumency shields. Why had not he thought about this half a year ago?

He'd heard how Severus treated Harry quite often over the years but had played it down. Yes, he had talked with Severus about Harry, assuring him that he was definitely not his father and that he should not judge him based on his heritage, but it had done nothing. He had downplayed Harry's concerns and objections. Had he allowed Severus to abuse his authority as a teacher to get revenge for a teenage fight? Had his trust in Severus made him blind to his misconduct regarding Harry?

He had not even realized that the Occlumency lesson were not helping at all.

There had been so many things happening at once during that time, Harry's visions, the attack on Arthur, the problems with the Ministry, his slander in the _Daily Prophet_ , his dismissal as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, the sparse information of what Tom had been up to, his fear for Harry because of the connection with Tom and the prophecy.

Had it finally all been too much? Had his desire to give Harry a few more years without the looming knowledge of the prophecy been detrimental?

It seemed that his habit of keeping information to himself because for fear of betrayal, had led to Harry mistrusting him. He had made the same mistake again, he had overlooked a loved one while planning and the consequences had cost him.

Perhaps he should count himself lucky, he had not lost Harry completely as he had lost Ariana, only, so far, his trust.

Albus sighed and looked around his office, remembering how Harry had destroyed some of his trinkets in grief and fury. Harry, who had already lost some much. Perhaps he should have told him the prophecy earlier, but he couldn't turn back the time. Analysing his actions regarding Harry made him realize that his whole handling of the boy had been full of mistakes. He would have to make amends this school year.

If Harry decided to come back…

Perhaps he should go and visit him, try to make amends with the boy? But no, Harry had requested that he stay away, and he would respect that.

How had he thought that isolating Harry in the muggle world would help? He had thought Harry needed to grieve and that at Privet Drive, with his family, he would have the quiet environment, the time and the support to do so, so that he could come to terms with what had happened. A break from the pressure he was under in the magical world.

Another miscalculation on his part.

Albus was not sure if he could forgive himself at this moment, let alone if Harry could, but Harry had a far greater capacity for compassion and forgiveness than anyone else Dumbledore had ever known.

A testimonial of this was how he had handled the Horcruxes. Harry had found out on his own, but instead of destroying them completely, making his parents' murderer mortal again and then destroying him, he gave them back. He gave Tom back what he had valued the most as a teenager, when he still was Albus' student - his sanity, his brilliant mind and exceptional intelligence.

Albus could only wonder how Harry could have done that, he hoped he would tell him someday. He had read everything he could find about Horcruxes but had not come up with a solution for how to get rid of the one in Harry other than killing him. He had hoped that a killing curse from Tom himself would only kill the Horcrux, especially since he knew that Tom had used Harry's blood in the resurrection ritual. He hypothesized that if someone who had the blood sacrifice running through his veins tried to kill the one the sacrifice wanted to protect, that the curse would be weakened and deflected. Therefore, if Tom were to try and kill Harry, the curse would only take the soul shard.

Albus read the letter again and sighed. All his mistakes led to a boy he dearly loved like a grandchild being hurt, not only by him, but by the whole magical world. A world Harry had already sacrificed so much for.

He was not sure what he should think about Tom being sane. Would he change enough? He had been a frightening, anti-social and arrogant child, had shown his ruthless and cruel nature very early. Albus paled with the thought of what a sane Tom could and would do.

They still needed to have an eye on him. If Tom stepped off the warpath and put an end to the violence, it would be hard to do something against him. If that wasn't the case, though, he needed to be stopped, permanently, and the only one who could defeat him was Harry.

Harry, who said outright that he had done his duty, who wanted to be left alone.

A passage caught his eyes.

 _I will leave the rest to you, headmaster. You are much more suited for leading the people against Voldemort, if he is still a threat. I was merely a pawn and I did my duty and wounded the king._

 _I don't want to have anything to do with the war and Voldemort anymore._ …

They needed Harry if Tom did not stop the violence, but would Harry even talk with him? Perhaps he should send a letter or an intermediary.

And he had to talk with Severus, he needed to know if Tom had summoned his Death Eater, perhaps he could even send Severus to check on Harry... no, it would lead to a disaster for both, not with their history. Perhaps Minerva or Remus?

Albus leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, but the end of the letter was imprinted in his mind and the words ripped his heart apart.

A lone tear escaped the eyes of Albus Dumbledore void of their usual twinkle, as he sat in his office, trying to come to terms with what had happened. Burying his head in his hands, Albus whispered, "Oh Harry, what have I done?"

* * *

It was midnight when Harry woke to a soft rustle of feathers. Blinking, he recognized Hedwig landing at the headpost of his bed. She hooted softly at him.

"Hey girl. Had a safe trip?" Harry turned around and stroked her feathers fondly. "Glad to have you back. Ah, if only you could tell or show me his face as he realized I wrote _him_ a letter." Harry snickered.

"Let's sleep. Tomorrow I have some more letters. Sorry, that I am working you so hard. But only two more days. Two more days…" Harry yawned, closed his eyes and fell back asleep.

Hedwig combed his hair affectionately with her beak. She would watch over him for a few hours and then rest. Her wizard needed her.

* * *

A lot of strange things had already happened in Draco Malfoy's life - things which had led to realizations about himself he often wished he did not have. That the famous Harry Potter had not wanted to be his friend, for example. It had been a hard lesson to learn, his father had always told him that what a Malfoy wanted, a Malfoy would get. And he wanted Harry Potter as a friend. And when he could not get this, he at least wanted his attention.

If he thought about it, a lot of things in his life were somehow connected with Harry bloody Potter.

In second year, he only wanted to play seeker so badly because of Potter. Technically, chaser was his favourite position, but then he wouldn't be able to compete directly with Potter. He wanted to see Potter's face when he defeated him.

At the Duelling Club he thought he would finally get his chance to see Potter defeated at his feet, instead he had listen with envy Potter speak Parseltongue.

In third year he realized he liked the insults they traded and the reactions he got out of Potter when he mocked him. He looked forward to their confrontations and fights every day.

In fourth year, he had to admit that he had been a little afraid for him. Nobody could replace Potter, nobody was witty or stubborn enough to fight back against him. If Potter died in that stupid tournament, Draco would lose his only real entertainment.

He had begrudgingly admitted that he was impressed how Potter handled the first task. After the third task he was horrified, especially as he realized Potter had been tortured. His father had talked with his mother behind closed doors (not that a closed door could hinder Draco) and told her what had transpired after he had been summoned. Both had been terrified, afraid of a madman who tortured children, afraid for their own son as the Dark Lord resided in Malfoy Manor.

Fifth year had been the most horrible so far - especially for Potter. Draco had watched him struggle with anger and frustration, had tried to rile him up at every possible moment (which had not been as much fun as he anticipated, Potter had not quite been himself). He had seen the mood swings and the social isolation and had sneered at Gryffindors for their disloyalty. He had been a little concerned for Potter, he had looked tired, haunted and sometimes even hopeless. It had been obvious, but none of his friend had commented on it when he had pointed it out.

Instead, Pansy had told him to either stop obsessing over Potter or act on it. Blaise's comment on the matter had been a simple "shag already!" The rest of his friends had stayed silent. Theo never voiced his opinion out loud, he would wait and see what transpired and then act if needed, Greg and Vince were mostly interested in food, and Daphne cooed at how sweet and romantic it was that he had been infatuated with the same guy since he was eleven - it was nauseating.

He was _not_ obsessed or infatuated with Potter!

He hated Potter. He hated that he was concerned for him. Hated that, even if he tried, he could not ignore the git. Hated how he wanted to be acknowledged by Potter. He hated how Potter always got under his skin and loved how he always got under Potter's skin. He hated that he loved the challenge Potter posed. Hated that he loved it when Potter paid attention to him. Yes, Draco Malfoy hated Harry Potter with a deep passion.

But this, this was surely the strangest thing so far.

Sure, he had watched Potter and made sure that he at least paid him attention, however that attention came, but he would never have predicted Potter would write him a letter.

Draco had recognized the beautiful white owl immediately and had stared dumfounded for some seconds as it tapped against his window.

Now he sat on his bed, letter in hand, and he had to admit he was a little afraid to open it. He put the letter aside, called a house-elf and ordered some tea, wiping his sweating hands on his trousers while he waited. The elf arrived and Draco took the herbal tea gratefully, sipping slowly, trying to gather his nerves. Then he picked up the letter again and opened it carefully. A thick pack of parchments emerged.

Draco unfolded them, confused, the first one had some writing on it, but the other ones seemed blank. Then he recognized the type of parchment - _Truth and Oath_ \- a specific kind of parchment used for negotiations. Everything written on this parchment was the truth as the writer believed it to be and you could embed a binding oath in it. It was very expensive and rarely used nowadays. But in the old times, every peace treaty had been written on _Truth and Oath_ parchment.

What was important enough for Potter to send him such a letter?

Draco put the blank pages aside and read the first one.

 _Dear Draco_

 _Is it okay if I call you Draco? I think after this letter you'll know more of me than even Ron or Hermione, and that permits the first name basis, don't you think?_

 _I'm sure you're wondering why I would send you a letter. We are not friends, we don't like each other, we disagree on everything, and beside Quidditch we would never willingly spend time together. Nobody would suspect that I would share this with you of all people. Who would think that I would give you more ammunition, I mean, you are Draco Malfoy and I am Harry Potter. A Slytherin and a Gryffindor. As a Slytherin, you are ambitious, clever, have a strong sense of self-preservation and, if you want to be, you can be quite cunning._

Draco felt slightly insulted. He was _always_ cunning, thank you very much.

 _So, for me, you are the perfect choice._

 _What I will tell you in this letter will give you excessive and marvellous blackmailing material, but I hope that, as a Slytherin, you won't act on what I tell you without a plan and benefits for you. I am sure you won't spill the beans, since if you did you would lose your blackmailing material._

 _I take it you recognized the kind of parchment I used. Yes, you will have to swear an oath before you can read the actual letter, but no, I will not let you swear that you cannot use the information I am about to give you. I will only give you a limited time in which you cannot talk about the letter and what it details, after this everyone is fair game. And, because of the parchment, you know that everything I wrote is the truth, or the truth as I believe it. And why?_

 _I came across crucial and dangerous information and used it. I had to tell some people what I did, but not everyone needs to know every detail. If something happens to me, though, there will be no one who knows the whole story, the information would be lost and that would be fatal. So, with this letter I hope to use you as a safety net._

 _If everything goes right, you never have to reveal what you know if you don't want to. If not, well..._

 _It is your decision. If you want to read the letter, swear the oath below. I assume you know what you have to do._

 _Yours,_

 _Harry Potter_

 _._

Draco stared shocked at the letter. He was also slightly giddy that Potter had decided to send _him_ this letter. It made him feel special and elated… oh Merlin, Pansy was right… he _was_ obsessed with Potter! Not infatuated though… never!

What baffled Draco was Potter's reasons for sending the letter to _him_ **.** Who would have thought that there was a Slytherin mind behind that Gryffindor facade? It made him even more interesting.

A few spaces below Potter's signature, the oath was written. It was simple and straightforward.

 _I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, swear…_

Hold on, how did Potter know his whole name? He was sure he never had mention his middle name around Potter.

 _I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, swear to read the following letter alone for the first time, without the presence of another being, whether it be a human, creature or portrait, who could listen or record the content of this letter. I swear to read it with an open mind and with the knowledge that this is the truth as Harry James Potter believes it to be. I swear not to talk about the details of this letter, write it down for someone else to read, or give it to an another being, whether it be a human, creature or portrait, for the next 48 hours. On my blood and magic, this I so swear._

.

Draco gulped and hesitated for a moment, but his curiosity and the thought of blackmailing material thrilled him - he was a Slytherin after all. He picked up his wand, placed the tip directly under the oath on the parchment and spoke the words. At once, he felt the magic taking hold and the oath settled in him. As he looked at the blank parchments, writing appeared, floating up from the inside.

Exhilarated he picked them up, ordered another cup of tea, settled against the headboard of his bed and began reading.

.

 _Wonderful, you swore the oath. Thank you… I think. I am a little nervous writing this. At the end you will know all my little secrets, so nervous is perhaps the wrong word. Afraid? Jittery? Anxious? Whatever. Let's start._

 _Again: Dear Draco_

 _Welcome to the wonderful tale of the life of one Harry Potter, but as with every life story, it isn't about only one person. And it isn't as wonderful as most people believe. So, where and how should I begin our wonderous tale? Ah yes, like every good story starts…_

 _Once upon a time…_

 _There was an orphaned boy, who grew up in a muggle orphanage. He learned early that he was different, special. He could talk with snakes, he could move objects with his mind and he could punish the other children who bullied him. His name was Tom Marvolo Riddle. As he reached his eleventh birthday, a strange man visited him in the orphanage and told him he was a wizard. That man's name was Albus Dumbledore. Albus told him about magic._

 _Tom went to Hogwarts, where he was sorted into Slytherin. He was a model student, brilliant but poor and - oh so - charming. And every summer he had to go back to the orphanage. Tom feared nothing more than dying, and as he had to spend his summer in muggle London during the second muggle world war, he was obsessed with finding a way to make himself immortal._

Tom Marvolo Riddle, Draco didn't recognize the name. Why would Potter talk about this Riddle guy? What was he driving at?

 _Albus Dumbledore was suspicious of Tom. He had shown on their first meeting at the tender age of eleven how ruthless and arrogant he could be and his remarkable control over his, for an eleven-year-old, quite powerful magic made Dumbledore wary._

 _Over the years Tom came to fear and despise Albus because of this._

 _Throughout school Tom was obsessed with finding his magical heritage. When he discovered that his father, Tom Riddle, had been a muggle, he crafted the alias "Lord Voldemort" to spare himself the reminder of his "filthy Muggle father". Later, he discovered that his mother's bloodline made him a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin._

Draco paled. Voldemort… Potter was talking about the Dark Lord.

 _During his fifth year he discovered the Chamber of Secrets and the Basilisk within, and he tried to follow the order left behind - to purge Hogwarts of everyone unworthy. A lot of students were hurt in the process, one student died. Afraid that Hogwarts would be closed and he would have to go back to the orphanage Tom closed the Chamber, but he used the murder for his own purpose. He performed an old, very dark ritual and increased the rip in his soul the act of murder had created, till his soul split apart. Tom put half of his soul in the next best object he had with him, his diary, making it his very first Horcrux._

 _He didn't notice that with half his soul missing his emotions were dulled, his ambitions distorted, his mind warped and so he crippled his magical possibilities. Thus, was the beginning of Lord Voldemort and his spiral into insanity._

Draco felt faint. As he read about the soul splitting and the Horcrux, he remembered the diary his father had possessed, something the Dark Lord had given to him for safekeeping.

 _Due to his charisma, Tom had already collected a lot of followers during his time in Hogwarts. After graduation he travelled, while slipping deeper into the Dark Arts. He made four more Horcruxes beside his diary and every time his soul was split in half and his downfall into insanity and the destruction of his magical capabilities went on. And it showed on his features, dehumanization followed._

Draco had only seen the Dark Lord a few times and only once from close proximity, when his father had brought him before him as a potential Death Eater at his Lord's demands. He had been utterly horrified and disgusted at the thought of following and kissing the feet of the snake-like nonhuman.

 _He started to gather more and more followers, using their beliefs in blood purity and supreme reign over everyone beneath them to enthral them, they called themselves_ Death Eater.

 _During the height of his power, one of Voldemort's followers brought parts of a prophecy to him, a prophecy about a child, destined to be his downfall. So very afraid of dying, he went after the family and as prophesied, it was his downfall. The exact wording was:_

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...  
born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...  
and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...  
and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...  
the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...

 _Lord Voldemort only heard the first two lines and therefore made the fulfilment of the prophecy all the more possible. How had he found the one family with a child fitting the prophecy? A friend of the family told him where he could find them, thinking themselves safely hidden under the Fidelius charm. It was Peter Pettigrew, Death Eater, rat Animagus and friend to my parents, who betrayed them._

 _And so, on Halloween night 1981, Lord Voldemort went to Godric's Hollow to kill me._

 _He gave my mother the choice to step aside, but when she refused, he killed her, and her sacrifice awakened ancient magic and protected me and rebuked the killing curse, sending it back to Lord Voldemort. His body was destroyed that night, but his Horcruxes anchored his soul. He didn't die, but was cast from his body as a spirit._

 _The consequences of that night were far greater than everyone knew at that point. His murder of two innocent people ripped his already unstable soul apart again. This soul piece would have vanished, had it not found a whole and pure living soul nearby to attach itself to – me. I was made an unintentional Horcrux and I've carried Lord Voldemort's soul piece in me since then._

Draco tried to gulp, but his throat was too dry. He grabbed his so far forgotten teacup and drank half of the already cold tea. How had Potter felt when he realized he had carried a part of the soul of his parents' murderer inside him since he was one year old? Draco tried to imagine it, but it only made him feel sick.

 _Lord Voldemort travelled as a bodiless spirit for years, till he found a willingly young wizard years later he could possess, a teacher at Hogwarts, where little Harry Potter would start soon his very first year._

 _But what had happened to little Harry Potter in the interceding years?_

 _As you know, I survived that fateful Halloween night with nothing more than a scar and a little extra soul piece. Hagrid took me from the destroyed house and brought me to Dumbledore. Dumbledore, who knew the prophecy and knew that Lord Voldemort was not dead. And he knew about the blood sacrifice my mother had invoked. So he decided I had to grow up with blood relatives, to give me the extra protection he could place with the help of blood wards, based on my mother's blood. My only living family from my mother's side is Aunt Petunia, a muggle._

 _Dumbledore wanted me to grow up apart from the wizarding world, he didn't want me to be used for my fame as a child, famous for something I couldn't even remember._

 _As noble as his intentions were, his decision wasn't really a good one._

 _He left me, on a cold November night, on the doorstep of No 4, Privet Drive, a muggle neighbourhood. He thought he left me with family. I grew up there with the Dursleys, my aunt Petunia, my uncle Vernon and my cousin Dudley, but Dumbledore miscalculated. By blood the Dursleys are my family, but by everything that defines a family the Dursleys never fit the description._

 _Family doesn't treat you like an unwelcome burden, like you are something to be hidden away, their dirty secret. Something abnormal and freaky. A worthless waste of space. I had to earn my keep, the roof over my head, the food on my plate and the hand-me-downs they so graciously put on my body, as uncle Vernon loves to say. I learned to clean, cook, do the laundry and weed the garden from an early age. I learned that my name was Harry the first day I went to primary school._ They _never called me anything other than 'freak' or 'boy'._

 _They treated me like a house-elf, not that I knew at that time what a house-elf was. I didn't know I was a wizard, they had told me my parents had died at a car crash. I didn't know little boys normally didn't sleep in a cupboard under the stairs._

 _The beatings started with my first accidental magic at five. I froze a glass Dudley had pushed from the counter. I got fives lashes with Uncle Vernon's belt and had to pick up the glass shards, afterwards I was thrown into my cupboard, locked in for a few days with no meals. From then on, I got beaten and whipped for everything I did wrong, or they thought I did, for being a burden to them, for simply being alive and especially for every bit of accidental magic I performed._

Draco was appalled by the details of Potter's childhood. He had been prepared to read something about how he much his family loved him, how they would treat him as a prince. But this? He would disregard it as a lie, but nobody could lie on _truth parchment_.

Beatings? A cupboard as a bedroom? This was child abuse! Why hadn't anyone done something? Had Dumbledore never checked on him? There were so few magical children born every year, every one of them was precious. His father would _never_ raise his hand or his wand against him.

 _Everything escalated when I turned eleven. My Hogwarts letter arrived and was addressed to my cupboard. They tried to prevent me from reading it and were afraid someone was watching them, so they gave me Dudley's second bedroom (a year later they put bars in front of my window, secured the door with multiple locks and installed a cat flap to fed me - really homey). More letters were sent, hundreds of them, till Hagrid found us (we were on the run at this point). He made a knot in Vernon's gun and gave Dudley a pigtail. He told me I was a wizard._

 _Hagrid showed me to Diagon Alley and told me about my parents and Hogwarts. At Madam Malkin's I met the very first wizard my age, but I was really nervous and a little frightened by everything and the boy was kind of aloof and cold._

Here Draco paused and blushed, he remembered that day and the dark haired tiny wizard at Madam Malkin's. He had not been used to people not knowing him and all the other children his age he knew were childhood friends. He had been nervous and had wanted to make a good impression but had not known how.

 _When I came back from Diagon Alley with my trunk and my owl and the wonder in my face, I got one of my worst beatings so far. Vernon was so angry that I was happy for once, that I was happy with being not normal. They didn't let me out of my room for the rest of the summer._

Draco wanted to vomit, or rage and scream, or – better – find and kill those thrice damned muggles. How had Potter managed to hide this? There was not even a whisper going around at Hogwarts, and this would have spread like fiendfyre. He seemed like the perfect lion - confident, brave, unafraid of standing up against whoever affronted his friends or him. Should he not be more… cowed and – well… broken?

Draco frowned. Children with an abusive past often went to Slytherin, they developed a significant amount of cunning growing up. As a prefect, he and all the other prefects and the Head boy and girl (if they were Slytherins), had a briefing at the start of every year with Severus about what they had to watch for, with the explicit order to report immediately even the slightest suspicion.

Potter did not display the typical signs. Anyone looking at him would see a well-adjusted boy. There had not been one hint that something was amiss in his home life. Intentionally or not, Potter had made the signs of abuse very easy to miss.

But why? Why would Potter hide it? Why not seek help and get away from his abusive relatives?

 _At the Hogwarts express I made my first friend ever - Ron, but I also saw the boy from Madam Malkin's again, who behaved kind of arrogant and reminded me too much of Dudley in that moment. Ron told me more about the different houses and that he wanted to be in Gryffindor. Hagrid had already said that every bad wizard had come from Slytherin. I know that this is not the truth, but when I was eleven I believed what people told me, I was naïve and gullible._

 _The Sorting hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, but I was so afraid to be in the house my parents' murderer had been in and where the arrogant kind-of-Dudley boy had been sorted, I persuaded it to put me in Gryffindor._

By Merlin's hairy balls, Harry Potter could have been in Slytherin!? And it was part of his fault that it did not happen. Draco was dumfounded. It was the ultimate Slytherin move, hide in the house of lions.

 _I quickly learned more about my fame and how everyone thought Harry Potter should be. So, I played the part. Yes, I admit it, the Gryffindor Golden Boy is a mask - or, most of it. I learned quickly that the world wanted a Gryffindor hero, so I gave them one. Dumbledore explained to me at the end of this year why I had to go back to the Dursleys every summer, the blood wards are too important._

That was the reason? An eleven-year-old boy was pushed into a role and accepted it to belong somewhere, Dumbledore told him he had to go back there every summer and that's it? Draco wanted to hex or maim someone quite badly.

 _I learned to hide the scars from my lashings, learned to suppress the flinches, learned to be loud and happy and to eat. At least Hogwarts was better than Privet Drive, even if Snape reminded me of my Uncle too often._

He had to talk with Severus. Draco knew his godfather was not the nicest person, but Hogwarts was likely Potter's only refuge and he did not need someone to remind him of his abusive Uncle every day. Even if he did not like Potter, (no Pansy, I. am. not. infatuated. with. Potter!), nobody deserved this.

 _I will not retell everything that happened in my five years at Hogwarts. Let's just say I discovered a pattern quite fast. Something suspicion went on in which I was somehow involved, if I wanted or not, half of the school scorned me through at least part of the school year, Ron betrayed me half of the time (like in fourth year before the first task). I forgave him every time. At the end of the year something always happened, which usually resulted in me nearly dying. Let's summarize my school years so far._

 _First year I had to protect the philosopher stone from Voldemort (really shitty protections, three first years overcame them, what was Dumbledore thinking?)._

 _Second year I had to rescue Ginny from the Basilisk and the sixteen-year old Tom Riddle. Riddle came out of the diary your father gave Ginny before the term even started. And yes, there was a Basilisk in the Chamber, which nearly killed me (let me tell you Basilisk venom is really painful once you get it in your bloodstream). Oh, and I am sorry we thought you were the heir of Slytherin, Hermione even brewed Polyjuice potion, so Ron and I could interrogate you as Crabbe and Goyle (Hermione accidentally used a cat hair, you can imagine the results). And did you know there is an Acromantula nest in the Forbidden Forest? We found it while discovering what Slytherin's monster was. It was really horrible for Ron, he is terrified of spiders._

 _Third year I discovered and rescued my actually innocent godfather (he never got a trial, not even Dumbledore the chief warlock looked into it) and prevented my soul being sucked out by Dementors (I really hate them, every time they are near me I hear my parents dying). Pettigrew escaped in that year._

 _Don't get me started on fourth year… how Dumbledore never realized that Moody, his life-long friend, was actual a polyjuiced Death Eater… it ended with me being used in a resurrection ritual performed by Pettigrew, and Voldemort gaining a body._

 _And last school year I had to survive Umbridge and her bloody detentions with a Blood-quill, being ignored by Dumbledore, horrible visions of the stuff Voldemort was doing (the soul connection over my scar sometimes let me see things from his perspective), and my godfather dying in the Ministry._

A Blood-quill? Draco had heard that Detentions with Umbridge had been horrible, but none of the few Slytherins who had detentions with her had indicated that they had to use a Blood-quill. Had it been only Potter?

Draco sighed, it seemed everythingalways happened to Potter. Had he known from the start what everything really included, he never would have been jealous. Could the guy not get some rest?

Draco paused… When had he started to feel sympathy for Potter? He shook his head. He admitted he did not hate Potter anymore, not after reading everything so far, but feeling compassionate?

 _And every year I was sent back to the Dursleys for the summer, where they locked me away, worked me like a house-elf and beat me for breathing or not dying in whatever scheme I had been caught during the school year. Nobody knows what is happening at Privet Drive, not even Hermione and Ron._

At this Draco felt somehow smug. Potter had told him something very important and private and not even the Mudblood and the Weasel knew it.

 _At the end of this year, after my godfather died, Dumbledore finally told me the prophecy. I destroyed his office in grief and anger. I felt like it was my fault. I hadn't realized it was a trap, a trap Voldemort had set up with visions of the Hall of Prophecies over the whole year. Dumbledore knew about the visions but the only thing he did to help was order Snape to give me lessons in Occlumency._

 _What a great idea. Give the teacher who hates me the most the opportunity to dig through my mind. Do you know why he hates me? It's ridiculous, and a little sad. My father and his friends, the Marauders, bullied him during their school time and because I look so much like him he gets his revenge on James Potter by bullying his son in return. Petty if you think about._

Draco paused. He had not known this about his godfather, no wonder, Severus was a really private person. He had to agree with Potter, it _was_ petty to punish the son for the wrongdoings of the father.

 _And now comes the important stuff. Since the start of this summer I've had a lot of time to think about the connection with Voldemort. I discovered I was a Horcrux and that he made more. How you ask? I used the connection between us and slipped into his mind to dig through it, which was a disturbing place to be, really foggy and chaotic and nauseating…_

 _Voldemort and Snape gave me the idea. You know, at the Ministry Voldemort possessed me for a few moments and when I thought about it afterwards, it didn't make any sense. How could he have done that? Sending visions is one thing, but bodily possession?_

 _Oh, I discovered so much in his mind. I realized he was insane because of the soul splitting and that he wasn't always set on the warpath. But what to do with this knowledge? I decided to give Voldemort back his soul and by extension, his sanity. I used the connection between myself as a Horcrux and all the other Horcruxes and pulled the soul pieces into myself. I already had one more soul piece than the one making me a Horcrux: the first Horcrux. The soul pieces, which was made of half of his original soul, from the diary had lashed itself to me after I destroyed the diary in the Chamber of Secrets with a Basilisk tooth, freeing it in the process._

 _I merged all the soul pieces, but couldn't include two. One, which resides in Nagini and the one in me. As we are both living beings and have our own soul, the soul piece attached itself tightly to our own over the years. They are interwoven and are hard to unravel from each other. I tried unsuccessfully with myself and it was really painful, I blacked out for nearly three days (Uncle Vernon was not amused that his car wasn't washed before his big meeting). Even though mine is an accidental Horcrux - the soul piece is more like parasitic fragment or a stowaway - they are too interwoven with each other. Nagini welcomed and took the soul piece willingly, they are inseparable. If someone wanted to destroy it, they would have to kill Nagini._

 _The other five soul pieces were merged successfully, though and I sent them back to Voldemort using our soul connection. He should be sane again (or as sane as he can be), the pieces missing make up less than 3% of his soul. Perhaps he even looks human again. I hope so, he was quite handsome when he was sixteen._

Draco was completely astonished at what Potter had done. He had in his hands the means to destroy his enemy, the murderer of his parents, the one who had tried to kill him and had tortured him, and he gave him back his soul. He helped him! Draco could not comprehend it.

With everything that had happened to him, how could he still be this forgiving? How could he be so compassionate… so downright good?

 _I told Dumbledore that I collected the Horcruxes and sent the soul pieces to Voldemort. I told Snape the same, in more detail, and I suggested he check on Voldemort to see if the merging was successful and if he is sane again. I even told Snape the prophecy and that I would tell some other person everything important to know (I didn't mention that it would be you). I told both that I knew I was a Horcrux. To Snape I even wrote, that if Voldemort is sane again, I could consent to parts of his original plans. You should talk with him about it. It wasn't always about killing muggles and Muggle-borns, world domination and other crazy plans._

 _I think with this I did my duty and vanquished the Dark Lord. I don't want to be involved in the war or anything anymore._

 _The fickle opinions of the Wizarding World don't matter. If Voldemort doesn't stop the violence, someone else can deal with him. You only have to destroy the snake to make him mortal again and then literally anybody could kill him._

Here Draco paused again, but if Potter and Nagini were the only Horcruxes left, why would they only have to kill Nagini? Unless… Draco read on in a hurry, he had a terrible suspicion.

 _But what about the soul piece in me, you ask? It will be dealt with, make no mistake. And yes, for this I need to die. Sounds horrible. But I am sure that Dumbledore suspected Tom made Horcruxes and that I was one - at least since I showed him the diary in our second year and told him about my visions- and so far, he hasn't done anything to remove the soul piece or even talked with me about it. I highly suspect he would have sent me on a Horcrux-hunt and then arranged it in a way that I learned about my being one at the last moment, manipulating me into walking to Voldemort willingly, letting him kill me and destroy the last Horcrux. After this, either he or someone else would have finished Voldemort off._

 _And yes, I would have done it. I would do anything to prevent a war and people from dying, for more people losing their loved ones, for children ending like me. For this, I would walk to my death._

 _But as I made Voldemort sane again (hopefully), I don't think he wants his Horcrux to be destroyed. He would try anything to prevent something happening to me (sounds sweet). He would lock me away like a treasure._

 _I was locked away all my life and I would do anything to avoid it happening again, I wouldn't survive it. It is_ _ **my**_ _life and I choose to end it on my terms, not as a chess piece who needs to be destroyed to get the king, or a precious treasure withering away in a golden cage._

 _And let's be truthful, for what reason should I stay? I did my duty, I am not needed anymore. My childhood and homelife is hell. Hogwarts was my home, but Umbridge destroyed even that and the expectations of the wizarding world are exhausting. I am tired of these burdens._

 _I will end my own life some time during the next two days._

 _Do you believe in the afterlife? I am not sure, but I hope there is something, it would mean I will see Sirius and my parents soon._

 _Please come to No 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey after the oaths frees you and you can talk about the content of this letter, it would be best to take your father and Voldemort with you. Collect the soul piece from me, it should linger for at least a day after my death. Give it back to Voldemort, it's his and should be back where it belongs._

 _Goodbye Draco, perhaps we could have been friends if our first meeting had happened differently. We will never know. And if you want to use everything I told you to destroy Voldemort and Dumbledore and go for world domination yourself, I am all for it. Perhaps the world needs a snobbish, arrogant but also clever and witty Slytherin to tell them all how stupid they are._

 _Yours,_

 _Harry Potter_

It was long after midnight when Draco finished reading and let the pages slip from his fingers. Shock and horror filling his eyes.

What should he do?

* * *

 **AN:** So, Draco it is. I had so much fun writing the letter to him and his reaction so far.

Many thanks to a-bit-of-madness for helping to improve my grammar and spelling.

 **Thanks for reading and let me know what you think**.

First published: 12th of August 2018

Last edited: 6th of October 2018


	7. An interesting morning

**Disclaimer:** Nothing in the Harry Potter universe is mine. Everything belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling. I only want to play in her playground a little bit.

 **AN:** Oh wow, thanks for all of the lovely reviews, they keep me motivated to write the next chapters. Many thanks to everyone who favoured and followed.

This chapter is now beta'ed by the wonderful a-bit-of-madness, many thanks and hugs for her.

This chapter, and the next, is dedicated to **ulktante**. She, and her brilliant story " **Benefits of old laws** ", is the reason how one of the subplots proceeds (with her permission, naturally) and her Lord Slytherin is a major inspiration for my own. The details will be in the next chapter.

Have fun reading.

 **On with the story.**

* * *

 **Chapter 7: An interesting morning**

Draco read the letter from Potter again and again, fury building inside him, making it impossible to sit still.

This was unacceptable! He seethed, pacing his room.

How _dare_ Potter unload this shit on him and bind him not to speak about it! How _dare_ he take the easy way out! Where was that damned Gryffindor bravery?

... _expect_ … he should have been in Slytherin, a voice in his head whispered. Which was _not_ the point right now.

And Dumbledore? Why hadn't he found a way to remove the Horcrux from his Golden Boy? Why should Potter deal with this alone? After everything he already had been through.

Were all the adults in Potter's life blind, or were they simply incompetent?

Why had nobody seen what went on with Potter? In the last year everyone who had really looked at him could have realised not everything was alright… Merlin, to have _that_ inside him and a tight mind connection to an insane Dark Lord, no wonder he had anger-management problems…

But reaching the conclusion his death was the only solution?

How _dare_ he just give up like that! Where was his irritating as hell stubbornness?

To resign himself to what he believed was his fate so simply… Draco kicked a side table in rage… he was not allowed to give up! He had the obligation to fight! He was Harry bloody Potter! The boy who never gave up! The boy who was annoying, irritating and insufferable as hell!

…

Why hadn't he asked for help?

At this point Draco paused in his pacing, a realization dawning on him… he had to stop thinking of Potter as the perfect brave lion. Potter was an abused child. Even if he _did_ hide the signs very well, the mindset was still there, if you only looked hard enough.

If Potter had been in Slytherin the abuse would have been discovered, of this Draco was sure. Behaviour that hadn't rung any alarms in Gryffindor, would have aroused suspicion in Slytherin. As far as Draco knew, in all his adventures at Hogwarts, Potter never had asked for help from an adult. He had always thought of Potter as arrogant and insolent because of it, but did this desperate need for independence not look more like a pronounced lack of trust in adults?

And the Gryffindor bravery and courage? Based on everything he knew now, Draco had the impression that Potter tried to prove his worth by saving whoever he could, disregarding his own life. Apparently, his thrice-damned muggle family had drilled the worthlessness of his own life into him.

Draco could not comprehend how Potter could act without even one ounce of self-preservation.

Which led back to the problem at hand - Potter had decided to not depend on anyone and end his own damn life!

Idiotic, foolish, imbecilic, self-sacrificing, stupid Gryffindor!

Merlin, he wanted to _scream_.

So he did… loudly… thanking Salazar his rooms had silencing charms, and continuing in his furious pacing.

He could understand that Potter didn't want to be a chess piece anymore, that he didn't want to live his life locked up- but he couldn't even be sure that that would happen!

Perhaps the Dark Lord, now that he was hopefully sane (Draco really needed to find out if this was the case), as the creator of the Horcrux knew another way to remove it. Or maybe now, with two healthy minds at each end of the connection, it would not bother Potter that much anymore.

Who knew what a sane Dark Lord would do!?

But, no, Potter decided not to do the sensible thing.

No! He decided to be a self-sacrificing little twit!

Draco was shaking with unadulterated fury. How _dare_ he!

There had to be another solution. Draco refused to believe Potter's death was the only After everything he had already done (Merlin, he had _healed_ the mind, soul and magic of the most powerful Dark Lord), Potter thought he needed to die?

It was insufferable!

He needed Potter. How would he survive the monotony and stupidity of the general Hogwarts population without Potter as a distraction?

He was tired of the burdens? Then let someone help, share them!

It seemed Potter could not see it anymore, but there were more than enough people willing to help him and catch him when he fell. He might not have a family related by blood, but he had created his own regardless, even Draco could see that.

Still enraged, Draco left his room and made his way to the manor library. He needed to research. The Malfoy library was old and extensive, he needed to read everything he could find about Horcruxes, soul magic and accidental connections and bonds. Potter may have gathered crucial information in the Dark Lord's head and the Black library, but neither he nor the Dark Lord had access to Malfoy library. There were dark and old books there you could not find anywhere else.

And he needed to read about _oath and truth parchment_. He would find a way around the oath- he needed to tell someone, preferably his parents or Severus, what was going on. He couldn't do much on his own - he couldn't even tell someone to apparate with him to Potter's home, the oath prevented it.

He would not allow Potter to die! Potter gave him all this information and Draco would use it as he damn well saw fit, even against Potter's wishes if needed.

His rage was still boiling inside him as he made his way through the dark and silent corridors of the Manor in the middle of the night, careful not to wake his parents so he wouldn't be in the uncomfortable situation of having to explain himself.

The urge to scream had not diminished. A priceless old vase standing in the corridor shattered as he walked by. It was almost satisfying… almost.

He was too infuriated to be calmed by destroying only one small vase, though. A grim smile settled on his features as another priceless knickknack was destroyed. It was better than nothing. Since he could not shriek, everything would shatter instead. He left behind a path of destruction as he walked through the Manor.

* * *

Tom Marvolo Riddle could not remember the last time he slept this well. Now, he was sitting with a huge cup of black coffee in front of the open window in his bedroom, Potter's letter in hand. He had carefully read it a few times now and he had marvelled about his own stupidity at sixteen.

He also had checked the connection with his two remaining Horcruxes, which were still strong, and had briefly considered peeking into Potter's mind. The boy had some Occlumency shields, which he could easily dismantle, but it was not worth the hassle. Potter had done him a favour and considering everything the boy knew, he decided to do nothing to aggravate him further at this point.

Another point he was thinking about was what he should call himself. He definitely would not use _Lord Voldemort_ any longer, a hilarious anagram made up by a sixteen-year-old going insane. But neither was he Tom Riddle any longer… he could go with his middle name: Marvolo…

he liked the sound of it…

yes…

Marvolo it was.

Perhaps he should look up if he could take the Slytherin family name. He was entitled to take the Gaunt name, but he shuddered when he thought about the appearance and behaviour of the last member of the family he had met. His Uncle Morfin had not been a prime example of the wizarding species. No, he really did not want to be directly associated with the name Gaunt.

Marvolo sighed, he could not wait to talk with Severus and Lucius. He really hoped Severus could find a way to cure the last remains of his foolishness, if he looked entirely human again he could perhaps pose as his own son.

He had already used the morning to write down his observations of the resurrection ritual and the repercussions.

And he had to assess Severus loyalty, he had been crazy far too long. Who would follow such a madman, even if you are bound to him?

Severus was too proficient in Occlumency, he could lie to him, and he was a true Slytherin. Marvolo remembered how agitated Severus had been when he told him about his plan to go after the Potters. He knew Severus had been friends with Lily Potter once. Had he lost his loyalty there and then?

Was there a way he could accomplish his goals without another outright war? Potter had been right, they had already lost too many wizard and witches. If he could take on the mantle of Lord Slytherin, he would have significant political influence and a seat in the Wizengamot. But for this, he needed to integrate himself with the law-abiding population, and best without being thrown into Azkaban for the things he did while he was insane.

He had to investigate the connection between and Potter further as well. Had the use of Potter's blood in the resurrection ritual had any influence on their connection based on the Horcrux? He definitely could not feel Nagini's emotions without dipping into her mind, like he could Potter's if he was not occlumencing.

He scanned the letter again. He had a lot to discuss with Severus and Lucius.

* * *

Harry awoke well rested, to the sun shining into his room. It promised to be a hot day in July, but the breeze coming through the open window was still fresh enough. Stretching and yawning he grabbed his glasses and slid off the bed. After a nice breakfast with water and pumpkin pie (thank Merlin for preservation spells) courtesy of Mrs Weasley, a very human problem announced itself in ferocity, which he had suppressed until now with practiced ease. Harry looked at the bucket Uncle Vernon had left with disdain. But as he had no other choice… then a wicked grin spread on his face… and moments later the bucket was carefully emptied through the bars of his window onto his Aunts prized rosebushes, they would be growing nicely. He had heard once that waste made excellent fertiliser. He could practically hear the outraged screams of his aunt.

Harry chuckled and looked over the stacks of letters on his desk. Deciding on which he wanted to send next, he bundled them together, gently stroking Hedwig, who was still sleeping on her perch.

"Hey girl. Up for the next trip?"

Hedwig blinked at him and hooted.

"I hope you caught some nice fat mice last night before you returned. I am not sure if you liked what I could give you." Hedwig hooted again, hopped onto his shoulder and started to ruffle his hair. Harry let her and changed her water meanwhile.

When Hedwig seemed satisfied with his hairstyle, she presented him her leg. Harry carefully tied the bundle of letters to her leg.

"I know, it's a bit heavy, but they all go to the same destination. Have a safe trip!"

Hedwig nipped his finger fondly as he carried her to the window. Harry settled on the windowsill to watch her fly away. Had Snape checked on Voldemort? He did not dare to open his side of the connection, he was sure that Voldemort would not be happy if he found that Harry was planning to destroy one of his last remaining Horcruxes. And Dumbledore, would he leave him alone, at least a while longer? And Malfoy? Harry snickered, he would have loved to see Malfoy's reaction to his letter.

Tomorrow…

* * *

At exactly seven o'clock Severus stepped out of the fireplace at Malfoy Manor, where Lucius already awaited him, looking slightly nervous. A sentiment Severus could agree with.

They did not speak as they walked side by side through the manor. Both men steeled themselves as they approach their Lord's office and knocked. After a short "Enter," they stepped into the room and bowed deeply.

"Come sit with me. We have a lot to discuss and complicated matters are best talked about while comfortable." The amused voice of the Dark Lord startled them.

After yesterday's events, they _had_ expected a different man than the one who had called himself Lord Voldemort for the last year, he had been calmer and more in control of himself, but as they took their seats on the settee, they realized how different his demeanour really was.

He had shown a small smile when they entered, his red eyes fixed them with an intense, but not malicious, gaze. He looked relaxed, sitting there in the armchair, drinking a cup of tea, or was it coffee? All in all, he looked and behaved surprisingly… _human_ , even if his features were not entirely so.

"Severus, there are two concerns I want to talk with you about. First, I want you to find a way to give me back my complete human looks. Having the main part of my soul back already helped, but you certainly noticed that not everything changed. I am not sure if this is because there are still two Horcruxes left or if Pettigrew butchered the resurrection potion. I set up a potion lab down in the cellar for you to use. You will hopefully find everything you need there, if not, send a house-elf to bring you whatever you require. I already provided blood and skin samples, and the leftovers of the resurrection potion, the potion formula, a description of the ritual used and a transcript of procedure from my point of view. Thank Merlin, Pettigrew had enough brains to store some samples." The Dark Lord addressed Severus, who nodded.

His mind already focusing on the task, browsing through possible potions that dealt with the healing of disfigurement.

"The other concern we have to address is your loyalty."

Severus' head snapped up, his face a carefully blank mask. "My loyalty, my Lord? I am and have always been your ever-loyal servant."

The Dark Lord only looked at him.

"I am well aware, Severus, that I lost your loyalty fifteen years ago when I attacked the Potters. Or, more precisely, when I attacked and killed Lily Potter née Evans."

Severus opened his mouth to protest, but a gesture from the Dark Lord stopped him.

"I do not hold it against you. I was a madman at the time, so afraid of death that my conduct was erratic and unnecessarily violent. To believe in an incomplete prophecy and act on it without further investigations was incredibly foolish and I paid the price. Having my mind and soul back for the first time since I was a teenager, has let me see things in a slightly different way. I always disregarded the power feelings like friendship and love could have. It was this contempt that led to my fall at the hands of a toddler and his mother." The Dark Lord took a sip from his cup and sighed.

"But even in my insane state, I at least tried to uphold my promise to you, Severus. I asked Lily Potter to stand aside three times. I understand now that most mothers would do everything to protect their children, but at that time I found it incredibly foolish of her to throw away her life for the little brat. But because I gave her the chance to live, her willing sacrifice created the magic that protected Harry Potter from my killing curse. An ancient, powerful magic in the form of a long-lasting counter-charm."

Severus briefly closed his eyes. His Lord had tried to honour his plead for mercy for Lily and only because of this, her son was still alive. Of course, Lily would have never stepped aside and let her son die.

"But what I do not know, is to what extent I have lost your loyalty, Severus."

Severus opened his eyes again and with a brief internal struggle, looked his Lord in the eyes and lowered his Occlumency shields, showing him how Dumbledore had pressured him into an oath to protect Lily's son, using his grief against him. How he tried to fight the regulations against specific potions, labelled dark. His disgust with the ban of Dark Magic. Everything.

* * *

Marvolo was surprised by Severus' offer to assess his mind, but he immediately took advantage of the invitation. He tried to dive into Severus' mind as carefully as possible, but as powerful as he was in Legilimency, he never was gentle. He first examined the memories Severus showed him from every angle, establishing that they were not tampered with, then he delved deeper, pressing against the unintentional shields Severus' subconscious mind brought up and passing through them.

He looked through Severus' memories, starting with Lily Potter. He examined Severus' childhood, his friendship with Lily and his Hogwarts school years. Every embarrassing detail was inspected. His happy memories with Lily, the glaring contrast to his dark home life, the bullying at the hands of Potter and his friends, his growing interest and proficiency in the Dark Arts. The devastation after his fallout with Lily.

He saw his deep satisfaction as he took the Dark Mark, his growing dissatisfaction over time with the dark side's goals and their means of accomplishing them, and his despair when he realized he had bound himself to an insane megalomaniac.

His utter terror the night he learned his only childhood friend was the target of said madman. The all-consuming pain when he found her body.

Marvolo saw the moment Dumbledore had guilt pressured the grieving man into the oath to protect the boy.

Severus' teaching years till the Potter boy started Hogwarts flew by. He watched as the Potions Master was forced to protect the boy. He carefully studied the interactions between Severus and Potter. All these memories were overshadowed by hate because the boy looked and behaved so much like his father, and pain when he caught a glimpse of these green eyes, so much like his mother.

He saw Severus' growing annoyance and resentment towards Dumbledore and the light side, and his reluctance to follow the orders given by the old man.

He saw himself raging like a madman, unhinged and volatile after the resurrection. He felt Severus' hopelessness for the dark side.

Severus' whole life, his ambitions and hopes were spread out before him.

Severus Snape wanted to preserve traditions and he did not want to repress the so-called Dark Arts. He was a Dark Wizard himself, so he understood the danger coming from them. They were alluring and you could easily lose yourself to them. But you could not ban Dark Magic, it would mean that a third of the wizarding population needed to deny their innate magic and therefore their own nature. The Darkest Arts should be monitored, yes, everybody who learned them should be aware of what they are doing, but not banned. Severus Snape hoped that the wizarding world could change, but both of his masters had crushed this hope so far.

Marvolo carefully surfaced from deep within the Potions Master's mind.

* * *

Severus knew it was a huge risk to lower his shields and allow the Dark Lord unrestricted access to his mind, but the man's demeanour yesterday and today promised a change and a chance for the dark side.

Having the Dark Lord delving into his mind was as unpleasant as he had expected it. He was forced to relive his best and worst memories. The feelings connected to those memories left him raw, but it had to be done. If he wanted to take part in this new dark side, his Lord needed to be certain of his loyalty.

He sighed in relief when the intense presence of the Dark Lord's mind left his own, leaving him with a pounding headache and a struggle to keep his feelings under control. He vaguely noticed Lucius calling for a house-elf to bring a headache reliever and a calming draught.

After Severus downed the potions, not without sniffing carefully, and was in control if himself again, both men shifted their attention back to the dark wizard.

"Thank you, Severus. The trust you showed today will not be abused and even if I had lost your loyalty, the dark side did not. Rest assured that I don't plan to endanger your oath. An oath to protect the boy who is my Horcrux and to whom we owe a huge favour, I certainly can work with that."

Lucius went stiff at his side hearing about the oath and looked shocked at him, but Severus nodded and felt relief calming him further.

"Now that this is out of the way, we have a few more issues we must address. It is certain that I will not continue like before. A war is not the way to accomplish our goals, violence can only bring us so far and would only lead to the loss of precious wizarding blood. Instead we must fight mainly on the political stage, at least openly. For this, I need a legal way to integrate myself with the law-abiding population, preferably without being thrown into Azkaban. Lucius, that will be your part. Look through all cases where someone came back from the dead, I cannot be the first case. Perhaps there is something we could use to declare me innocent because of insanity. Another possibility would be for me to play my own son. Either way, I want to know what requirements there are for taking up the mantle of Lord Slytherin. The title would give us significant political and social influence, not to speak of the seat in the Wizengamot."

Lucius nodded. "I will begin immediately. Now that the Ministry is openly declaring your resurrection we should act as fast as possible. May I seek help from one of the others in the inner circle?"

"Certainly. I will call Thaddaeus. If I remember correctly he is proficient in the judicial area."

Lucius presented his left arm upon the Dark Lords gesture. A short and surprisingly gentle call through the Dark Mark and moments later, they heard a knock on the door. Thaddaeus Nott entered with the permission of the Dark Lord, and only a small break in his step hinted his surprise as he noticed the new looks of his Lord. He bowed deeply, his already mostly grey hair falling into his eyes.

"My Lord."

"Please sit, Thaddaeus. Lucius, Severus, please inform him of what has transpired so far." The Dark Lord gestured to an empty armchair beside the settee Severus and Lucius were sitting.

While Thaddaeus was updated by Lucius, leaving some details out like the Horcruxes, Severus observed his Lord. He looked exhausted, and no wonder, the process of having his soul merge back together and the adaption to the new amount of magic he should be able to wield now must be draining.

Discreetly, Severus slid a Pepper-up potion to his Lord, who acknowledged and thanked him with a slight tilt of his head.

Once Thaddaeus was up to date, the Dark Lord took hold of the conversation again.

"As you can see, we have a lot to do and as fast as possible. First and foremost, find a way for me to be a law-abiding citizen again and the requirements for taking the Slytherin Lordship. Potter pointed out another interesting issue. I am not up to date with Muggle science, so please find someone to research the following terms: DNA, gene pools, gene mutation and mendelian rules in the context of inbreeding."

None of the men had heard of these terms so far and looked utterly confused.

"If I may ask, why my Lord?" Severus enquired.

"Potter hinted it could have something to do with the growing birth of Squibs and magically weak children in pure-blood families."

"I will put one of the younger ones to the task. Perhaps the oldest son of the Parkinson family?" Lucius suggested.

"Payton? Yes, contact him later. I want the detail of this meeting and everything connected to Potter's letter remain between us, though." All three men nodded in agreement. "Good. Now, Thaddaeus, you can go and start with your task."

Thaddaeus nodded again and left the study.

"Lucius, Severus, we have to talk about Potter. As he is one of my remaining Horcruxes, he must be protected. Leaving him alone is not an option anymore. After everything I learned from you today, Severus, I don't trust Dumbledore not to use him against me, even against Potter's will. He hinted that he would disappear - I don't think Dumbledore would allow the boy to do that - but he doesn't elaborate. Severus, what did he write to you on this matter?"

Severus removed the letter sent to him from his pocket and began to read.

"He does not say anything of disappearing in my letter, but he acknowledged that he would approve some goals of the dark side and that dark does not equal evil." Severus consented to the Dark Lord's assessment of the Headmaster.

Scanning some parts of the letter again, Severus decided to take a calculated risk. "But the boy hinted that he would try to destroy the Horcrux inside him. He explained that he is not a complete Horcrux, like Nagini, due to the missed performance of the needed ritual. He called it a parasitic fragment, and it seems he will try to get rid of it. He did not elaborate how or why, but if I must guess, he wants to be free of everything that could be used to have some power over him." If Severus read the situation correctly, his Lord was sincere in trying to protect the boy, therefore enabling Severus to uphold his oath.

At this point Severus agreed with the Dark Lord that Dumbledore was the greater threat. If Potter was not going willingly along with whatever plan the Headmaster had, he was sure that Dumbledore had no qualms killing the boy for 'the greater good'. Severus had the growing suspicion that Dumbledore knew what Potter was and keeping the Horcrux would put him under the protection of the most powerful wizard in Britain.

"Potter didn't mention this in the letter he wrote to me," the Dark Lord mused. "But he wrote that his plans wouldn't allow him to see the aftermath of all he had done and that this would be the last time I heard from him. We can't actually do something at the moment, though, Potter is too well protected at his summer residence. Severus, if Potter already sent a letter to Dumbledore, he will surely call for you. If you can find out what Potter wrote to Dumbledore and what the Headmaster intends to do, we can decide how to proceed. If he could simply destroy the soul-piece, I am sure Potter would have already done it and his actions so far lead me to believe he wishes to give it back to me. As the connection between his soul and my Horcrux is too tight, I can't think of a way how he could accomplish this. But if he found a way, the boy did me a favour regardless and therefore he will be under my protection, even without being a Horcrux."

Severus was relieved. The oath would be fulfilled, the boy protected, and he could stay at the side he belonged to.

"And I fully intend to ignore the prophecy. I have to find a way to learn the full content. Even if it is, perhaps, not a true prophecy, Dumbledore seems to believe in it and act on it. Therefore, it would be easier to anticipate Dumbledore's plans if I knew it in its entire content. The copy in the Hall of Prophecies was destroyed. Severus, do you think Dumbledore shared the prophecy with Potter?" The Dark Lord mused.

Severus paused. Should he take another risk? So far everything had played out better than he had dared to hope. Taking a deep breath, he addressed his Lord.

"My Lord, Potter informed me of the whole content of the prophecy in his letter. He called it a self-fulfilling prophecy and said that he already fulfilled it as a toddler." Then he read this part of the letter out, while observing the reaction of the Dark Lord. He looked calm, surprisingly, relieved and a little confused.

"Interesting and odd. It seems, Potter is right. If I hadn't went after him, I would never have marked him as my equal and opened the way for the prophecy to take hold. And he already vanquished me, nothing is hinting that he has to do it again. Can we even be sure that it is about me as a Dark Lord?"

The red-eyed man stayed silent for a few moments.

"What confuses me the most is this part: _and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…_. What exactly does it mean? That only Potter can kill me and the other way around? How ridiculous. Yes, the container of a Horcrux is extremely hard to destroy by any other hand than the original owner of the soul, the destruction level of fiendfyre or basilisk venom is needed, but is it the same with a human Horcrux? I am not sure. Would this mean Potter and I are immortal or at least not destroyable? Also, living and surviving are two different things. I was merely surviving while I was a bodiless spirit and perhaps, even in the nearly soulless state after the resurrection. What defines living? what defines surviving? This prophecy contains too many possibilities and oddities to interpret it."

The Dark Lord was deeply lost in thought again.

"The best course is to ignore it for the moment. Perhaps I'll have the chance to discuss it with Potter himself at some point. I think that is all for the moment. Please notify the others, that Death Eater - and we really need another name, it sounds ridiculous - activities are on break for the moment. How we proceed from here is dependent on what law can be found to be used."

He dismissed them with a wave of his hand. Lucius and Severus bowed and left the study.

In the hallway both men looked at each other, determination settled in their faces. They agreed to do everything in their power to not let this chance for the dark side go to waste. Too much depended on it.

* * *

Severus called a house-elf to show him to the potions lab the Dark Lord had set up for him in the basement. It was a well illuminated room. Severus was not sure what it had been used for before. Perhaps a storage room?

Now a huge granite work table dominated the room. Three of the four walls were hidden behind shelves upon shelves of potion ingredients in glass and crystal, jars and vials. He spotted even some really rare and expensive ingredients. A ventilation charm system had been installed to remove harmful fumes out of the only window. Cauldrons in different sizes and from all different materials were standing in a row against one wall and on the working table every instrument made from every possible material a Potion Master could think about were laid out.

The information he needed concerning the ritual and potion used for the resurrection and the samples were on the table. After the first quick overview of the formula, Severus was already excited. The ritual itself was actually quite simple, but the preparations of the ritual and the potion were extensive. The potion itself was complicated and intriguing. How Pettigrew, who was a mediocre brewer, could have successfully made this potion, Severus did not know.

He picked up one of the samples from the potion. It was from an early stage in the brewing process. Pulling out the stopper he poured it into a simple iron cauldron. While he read over the potion formula, the brewing process and the description of the procedure from his Lord, his mind already analysed the potion by consistence, smell and colour.

This was why he had become a Potion Master. This was a thrilling, complicated puzzle, wanting to be solved. For the next hours, Severus Snape immersed himself in the subtle art of potions making.

* * *

Meanwhile Hedwig reached a peculiar looking building. It was several stories high, with four or five chimneys and so many extra rooms added to the original building, that only magic was able to keep it together.

Flying through the open window into a warm, friendly, welcoming, but empty kitchen, Hedwig landed on the long table and ruffled her feathers shortly. With her beak she tugged at the ribbon binding the package of letters to her foot and undid it. She left the letters on the table and departed through the window again, heading back to her wizard.

* * *

 **AN:** Thanks for reading and let me know what you think.

Many thanks again to a-bit-of-madness for helping to improve my grammar and spelling.

First published: 27th of August 2018

Last edited: 18th of November 2018


	8. Of laws and healing

**Disclaimer:** Nothing in the Harry Potter universe is mine.

 **AN:** Thank you all for reading, following, reviewing and favouring. Your lovely reviews increase the motivation to write.

As the last chapter this one is also dedicated to **ulktante**. With her permission I am using her law of Haxby.

When I started planning and writing this story I knew how I wanted to proceed with Marvolo. I crafted an idea of a law to help him but then I read **Benefits of old laws** from **ulktante** and my idea would have been very similar to it. I wrecked my brain for weeks to come up with something different, but all the other ideas were not feeling right for this story. So, I decided to go with the law plot and decided to ask ulktante if I can use her law idea. I am so happy did she said yes. Mine would have been too similar that I am sure someone would have accused me of copying.

This chapter is now beta'ed by the wonderful a-bit-of-madness, a million thanks and hugs to her.

 **On with the story.**

* * *

 **Chapter 8: Of laws and healings**

Harry flopped on his bed, sighing. He was totally, utterly bored and it wasn't even noon. Hedwig was still absent, delivering the latest letters, there was nothing to do. He already had spent his morning doing his summer assignments out of overwhelming ennui. It was completely meaningless to do them, he wouldn't be going back to Hogwarts to submit them, but he was certain that Hermione would approve.

Harry snickered. 'Harry, planning to end your own existence is not an excuse to forget to do your homework!' It certainly sounded like something Hermione would say.

He sighed again. Would his friends understand his reasons for doing this? Would they understand that he felt it was the right thing to do - to give Voldemort back what was his?

So far, his whole life had been orchestrated by someone else, he had never really been allowed to decide things for himself. All these people with their expectations and prejudices, Dumbledore manipulating him to do the right thing for the greater good. The greater good for whom? Certainly not for Harry, it seemed.

But this… this was something he _chose_ to do. It was his own decision. Harry knew there were other possible ways to handle the situation. Sure, he could ask some of the adults for help, to search another method to remove the Horcrux within himself.

He could have destroyed all the soul pieces and then killed Voldemort. Harry was sure, that was what Dumbledore had planned to do. It would have been the easy thing.

Or, he could talk with Voldemort. Perhaps he was reasonable after regaining his sanity, perhaps they could live with the soul connection. But would Voldemort allow his human Horcrux ever out of his sight? Instead of Dumbledore, Voldemort would take over dictating his life, instead of trying to end it like before, something Harry really did not want. He was through with listening to adults.

Every time he had asked for an adult to help in his life, nothing good had come out of it. So why should he now?

It was _his_ life, his right to do with it whatever he wanted, at least this once and he was content with his decision. To end his own life to prevent the wizarding war to continue, to give Voldemort his soul piece back and to spite the whole wizarding world for their cowardly way of looking to him to do something… sounded brilliant, like at least his death changed something… had a meaning. And then he could finally rest.

Merlin, he was so tired…

Losing Sirius and hearing the prophecy… it had shaken his world. He wasn't even sixteen yet, how could he possibly win against a wizard like Voldemort?

He remembered the fight in the Ministry between Dumbledore and Voldemort quite well. How could anybody believe he stood a chance against someone like _that_?

Kill or be killed…

He refused to let this prophecy dictate every aspect of his life - especially not his death.

If he really had to die, it would be on his terms and not someone else.

He had nobody he would leave behind, not like his parents had.

Yes, he was sure that Ron and Hermione would miss him, but they had their families to fall back on and over time, they would come to terms with it. The Weasley's would certainly grieve, but he wasn't really part of their family, and they had each other. They would survive this. Everything he had done, and planned to do, was to ensure his friends and surrogate family would survive.

All his friends, all of the people he loved, had someone they could lean on. They were all surrounded by loved ones. They would survive his death, they would mourn and grieve and _live_. That was what Harry was fighting for and, in the end, planned to die for - life.

He himself had no one anymore and that was good, nobody would be destroyed by his death. He had no family (the Dursley's certainly did not count), Sirius was dead, there was no one else… and Remus…

Harry closed his eyes. Thinking of Remus hurt. He had thought of him as something like a second godfather, a beloved uncle. Someone who cared for him as Harry, not the bloody Boy-Who-Lived, but he had not heard from Remus since the fiasco at the Department of Mystery. No letter, no visit. Nothing…

Harry understood that Sirius death had hurt Remus, perhaps even more than himself, but still, he had hoped…

Harry snorted. Hope had never helped him. Every time he got his hopes up, something had destroyed it. Just another reason to go through with this plan.

He simply saw no reason to stay and see what would become of the wizarding world now that he had vanquished Voldemort and brought Tom Riddle back. He had done what had been expected of him, what the prophecy and Dumbledore and the public demanded. He would send the last letters and then he would rest.

He had enough. Enough of fighting in a war he had been forced to participate in. Enough of people dying. Enough of the responsibilities and the burden of being the Boy-Who-Lived.

He was exhausted… mentally, emotionally and physically.

He had known since first year and certainly since the moment Voldemort stepped out of the cauldron, that there was a big chance he would not make it out alive. He had accepted it. At least he could choose when and how and for what, he would go.

And in the end, he would see his parents and Sirius again.

A ruffle of feathers brought him out of his brooding. Harry opened his eyes and sat up to find Hedwig sat at her perch, regarding him with one of her looks, telling him he was stupid. Harry ignored it and walked to her. Gently caressing her white feathers.

"When did you get back? Have a nice flight? Do you want some rest, or are you up for more?"

Hedwig hooted exasperatedly and hopped onto his shoulder. Harry laughed, his mood lightening.

"Okay, okay... let me get the next letters."

He went to his desk, Hedwig tousling his hair. The stack of letters was certainly smaller now.

"Only a few left. Here you go." He tied the letters to her leg and watched as she left through the window.

Sighing and flopping on his bed again, Harry tried to think of something to do to keep the overwhelming boredom from killing him, before he could to it himself.

Perhaps he should write his memoirs?

* * *

Severus walked through the quiet corridors of Malfoy Manor, approaching the wing the Dark Lord was residing in. He was tired. The last hours had been exhausting, the potion had demanded all his concentration and all his skills as a Potion Master.

But he had done it.

He reached into the pocket of his robe, curling his fingers around the glass vial there. Pride filled him and satisfaction. Pettigrew had butchered the resurrection potion, it was a wonder it had functioned at all, and he was sure that some of it still lingered in the Dark Lord's body. He had found a way to remove the rest, though, and reverse the damage the wrongly brewed potion had caused.

Knocking on the door of the Dark Lord's office, he let himself wonder for a short moment how much everything had changed in just a day. Yesterday morning he had sat in his kitchen, trying to ignore his worry for his future as a spy. Everything had changed, thanks to a letter from Potter – of all the people. Severus snorted and opened the door after he received permission.

The Dark Lord sat in one of the armchairs and opposite him, Lucius and Thaddaeus.

"Ah Severus, come in and sit. Lucius and Thaddaeus brought back their research." The Dark Lord waved him to an empty armchair.

Severus bowed and pulled the glass vial out of his pocket.

"I also have news, my Lord." He placed the vial on the table in front of the Dark Lord, who looked at the glass vial, and then at Severus.

Reading the question in those red eyes, Severus nodded. "Yes, my Lord. Pettigrew butchered the resurrection potions. I think most of the remaining disfigurements are caused by this, perhaps not everything, but this we can only determine after the damage is healed. There is a remnant of the potion left in your system, which we must first neutralize and draw out. A simple detoxification potion should be enough, my Lord." Severus brought out another vial and placed it next to the first one on the table.

The Dark Lord studied the vials, picked the first one up, opened it and sniffed. His eyes grew wide and he looked at Severus, who nodded.

"Yes, my Lord. Your homunculus was sustained by Nagini's venom and Unicorn blood, but for the resurrection potion only Unicorn blood was needed, something Pettigrew overlooked, so he added the snake venom. The unicorn blood for the potion should also have been freely given to exhibit its full properties, another mistake of the rat. He contaminated the potion with Nagini's scales, his own sweat and dust from where ever he was brewing. He used dried Valerian roots instead of fresh ones and…" Severus stopped as the Dark Lord raised a hand placatingly.

"Thank you, Severus. I don't think you have to list all the mistakes Pettigrew made. I pledge insanity as the reason why I let him handle something so important." A smirk found its way to the Dark Lords face, and the other three men in the room looked dumbfounded.

Had the Dark Lord really made a joke at his own expense? All three men in the room tried, unsuccessfully, to hide their bewilderment.

Severus was the first to recover.

"Certainly, my Lord. I would suggest taking these potions with someone attending to you. The detoxification could be quite painful and exhausting, and the healing will also not be pleasant."

"How long do you think will it take for these potions to work?" The Dark Lord enquired.

"The detoxification should only take a few minutes, perhaps half an hour, depending on how your body reacts and if it helps or fights the potion. The healing potion will take longer to perform its properties. Perhaps one or two hours… I cannot be entirely sure." Severus trailed off.

The Dark Lord looked thoughtful.

"Then I will take them after this conversation. Lucius and Thaddaeus brought back some interesting findings and we should discuss them."

Severus nodded and settled back in his armchair. The Dark Lord called for a house-elf to bring some tea and sandwiches and shifted his attention to the other two men.

"Continue Lucius."

The blond gathered the parchment he had set aside when Severus had entered and addressed the Dark Lord, who prepared his tea while listening to the aristocrat.

"My Lord, we think we found an old law we could use under the current circumstance. If we play it right, you would be declared innocent of every crime before you gained your second body." Lucius explained, taking a teacup for himself.

"Tell me about this law." The Dark Lord leaned back in his armchair with an intrigued expression, taking a gulp from his tea, a quiet content sigh escaping him.

Even with his almost human features, it was a shockingly human behaviour and Severus was sure he had never heard it from the Dark Lord before.

Meanwhile Lucius started explaining their findings.

"It is called the law of Haxby. In short, it says that a witch or wizard who has been forced from their bodies, and later regained a body of their own again, are not to be held accountable for what they did before said body. Anyone who has been a bodiless spirit for any length of time and obtained a new human body can call on this law. These witches and wizards are considered new-borns, free of everything they had done or not done before being _reborn._ " Lucius paused, and Thaddaeus took over.

"It was passed as a law because in the early 1300's several witches were tricked by a Potion Master to drink a portion that made them lose their bodies. Their spirits were forced into bodies he created for them. To help the victims in the aftermath, the law was created. The original reason behind it was to help the freed witches after their bodies were restored, so they would not be held responsible for the things done while under the influence of that wizard." Thaddaeus elaborated, looking disgusted at the action of this Potion Master. "A similar arrangement to that made for victims of the Imperius curse."

Severus could only agree. The Dark Lord glanced at Lucius pensively, setting his teacup aside, and tapped his fingers against his armrest.

"That certainly sounds like something we can use in my case. If we find a believable story for why I lost my body, and if Severus potions help me regain my complete human body."

"My Lord, I am sure they will change the law after you use it to your advantage. We checked every occurrence the law has been used, but as long as it still enforced, you can use it to start anew." Thaddaeus slid the parchment about the law of Haxby over the table to the Dark Lord, who read over it and leaned back thoughtfully in his chair.

"This really sounds perfect for my situation. Well done, Lucius and Thaddaeus. If I use my insanity and unstable condition, I think the penalty for the known crimes since I regained my body will be manageable. So, the best course of action would be to take Severus' potions and then, if I look human again, we'll have to find a way to call in a Wizengamot meeting. We need some powerful allies, someone not too obvious, on our side."

"The Minister doesn't listen to me anymore, not since the fiasco with the Department of Ministry." Lucius sighed. "And technically, I should be still in Azkaban."

"That is true…" The Dark Lord mused. "Would declaring that I forced you to do everything under the threat of harming your family, especially your heir, help?"

Lucius' head came up in surprise. Thaddaeus frowned and tapped his chin thoughtfully.

"Yes, it would help. Under the family law §721 it says, that if the family line and their continuation is in danger of going extinct because of occurrences outside of the family's control, and a member of the family commits a crime with the assumption to prevent his family line from dying out, the accused can be charged milder or declared completely innocent, based on the crime. It's an old pure-blood law, but still enforced." He elaborated.

"But it only holds if there is really only one heir and no other family members. In the case of the Nott family the law could not be used, because my father had three sister who were all married into pure-blood families from the continent. Even if Theodore and I die, the Nott inheritance would still go to the oldest male from one of those families."

"The Malfoy family has only produced one male child since at least seven generations ago. So, beside Draco and myself, there is really no Malfoy blood left." Lucius sounded bitter. Severus knew how much his friend had wanted another child after Draco, but every other pregnancy had resulted either in a stillbirth or miscarriage.

The Dark Lord glanced shortly at him. "In this case, the law would hold for you Lucius. After I am a _normal_ citizen again, you can declare that everything you did was under the threat of killing your son. You will have to behave like you had no choice in doing what you did. Be hostile, or wary of my presence in public."

Lucius looked thoughtful but also slightly insulted that the Dark Lord thought he needed to be reminded of his behaviour. "We can definitely make that believable. I will be hostile towards you, but grudgingly support your political objectives, as they still overlap with the ones I supported during your absence."

The Dark Lord nodded. "And it would give more credibility to my story. We'll have to see what we can do after my own Wizengamot trial for the other convicted Death Eaters. On another note, I want to change the name from Death Eaters to the original Knights of Walpurgis."

All three men acknowledged this with a nod.

"Good. So, who could we contact to bring my case in front of the Wizengamot? It should be someone with enough influence to call an emergency session. We don't want to wait long, or Dumbledore and his Order could move against us." Here the Dark Lord took a quick glance at Severus.

"At the moment, Dumbledore is apprehensive that you took no further action this summer, my Lord. I have not heard from him in the last few days."

"Report back after the old man contacts you. Back to the topic. Who should be approached?"

"Why don't _I_ go to either the Minister or Amelia Bones, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?" Thaddaeus asked. "I was never convicted, or even accused, of being a Death Eater. My reputation as a solicitor would bring more credibility to the story and Fudge or Madam Bones would not brush my words aside. **He** is too afraid what I could do with my influence and reputation in the Ministry and certain social circles, and **she** is known to be serious, fair, unbiased and someone who would ensure that the law would be upheld. I could bring the case in front of the Wizengamot myself, but it would take days till the trial, days Dumbledore could use to interfere. If I go as your solicitor to the Minister, or the Head of the DMLE, one of them could set an emergency session. My law office is one of the most highly respected and we have quite a reputation. If I officially take your case, not even Dumbledore could brush it aside, my Lord."

The Dark Lord looked at Thaddaeus in surprise. "When you came into my service the agreement was that you would never have to officially associate with me. I needed someone who was knowledgeable in the judicial system and therefore was willing to do it this way, even as insane as I already was. You really want to throw this arrangement aside now?"

Thaddaeus smiled slightly. "My Lord, I am from an older generation than Lucius and Severus. I remember the beginnings, when you still had some of your sanity and brilliance. I wore your Mark with pride, even if nobody ever saw it. I hoped that I would still be alive, to see you whole again. And even if you were insane most of the time, you still showed mercy for never standing openly at your side. I would be proud to do this now. And the reputation I built up over the years will now be put to good use for you." He inclined his head to the Dark Lord, who watched him with something like fondness in his eyes, if Severus interpreted it correctly.

"Very well, we will do it this way then. We only have to decide whom you should approach. It would be best if I leave Malfoy Manor as well. If Lucius' defence will be based on his unwillingness and forced participation, I should not reside here. I will move to Riddle Manor, where I will remain till after the Wizengamot trial."

Lucius did not try to object, but simply called a house-elf, ordering it to pack the Dark Lords belongings.

"The question remains, the Minister or Madam Bones?"

Lucius and Thaddaeus exchanged a quick glance.

"The Minister is desperate at the moment. There are rumours, now that there is evidence of your return, that he will be replaced. His reputation suffered a great deal because of his denial of your resurrection since last summer and his slander of Dumbledore and Potter, who were telling the truth all along. This would make it easier to manipulate him, but he would also be a weak ally and his word is not worth much amongst the members of the Wizengamot." The blond aristocrat mused.

"Madam Bones is fair, truthful to the bone and much harder to convince, but if she would convene the Wizengamot meeting and back up our case, then we would already have most of the light and at least half of the neutral parties on our side." Lucius continued.

"So, Minister Fudge would be the easier catch but the weaker support, but to win Madam Bones, the background story and the evidence must be incontrovertible." The Dark Lord summarized and thoughtfully picked up his teacup.

"I can produce memories which would back up the story I want to go with and I would submit myself to a Veritaserum interrogation. I could call in a healer, one of our own, to test me for residual dark magic. Would a report of my mental health, together with the findings of a residue from a dark curse be of assistance to convince Madam Bones of my sincerity?" He chuckled as he saw the expression on the other men's faces.

Thaddaeus cleared his throat. "If a report like that is producible, best from a well-known healer with a reputation in the healing of mental and curse diseases, it would be more than helpful. If you know a healer who would be willing to fake such a report, he should be contacted immediately, my Lord."

The smile the Dark Lord gave the three men in his office showed a lot of amusement and was downright chilling.

"The report will be with you in the next hour. Lucius, Thaddaeus did you find out the requirements for me to take on the Slytherin Lordship?" The Dark Lord moved on to the next point on his agenda.

Lucius nodded and summarized the findings while Thaddaeus nibbled at some cucumber sandwiches.

"The information was not hard to find, Thaddaeus simply looked into the Lord and Ladyship charter at the Ministry. You have to prove you are an ancestor of Slytherin with a simple blood heritage test, then try on the Slytherin Lord ring and speak the Slytherin family oath in Parseltongue, if the magic accepts you and settles in, you are declared Lord Slytherin."

The Dark Lord looked stunned. "That is all?"

"Yes, my Lord." The blond aristocrat confirmed. "But as we understood it, the family oath and the Lordship ring will test you for the family magic. Everyone who falsely tries to claim the Slytherin Lordship or who does not have enough family blood, will be severely punished. As my Lord already exhibits the most well-known family magic, Parseltongue, I don't see that there will be a problem."

"Excellent. After I claim the Slytherin Lordship, I will officially change my name to Marvolo Slytherin."

They all emptied their teacups.

"Now, let's proceed. I will move to Riddle Manor to take the potions after we have finished. Severus, please pack everything you think you will need from the potions lab and accompany me. Lucius, you should contact your own solicitor and prepare to bring your case in front of the Wizengamot in a few days. The best would be to start with my reasons for getting you out of Azkaban, it was solely for punishment at this time. Thaddaeus, stay for a few minutes, we have to craft a background story for my insanity and bodiless time."

The Dark Lord smirked, satisfied with the situation so far.

Lucius and Severus stood up, bowed and left the room. While Thaddaeus prepared himself another cup of tea and started to fabricate a believable background story for the Dark Lord.

* * *

"But Mum, we just degnomed the gardens yesterday." Ron complained as he followed his mother through the door into the kitchen.

"Yes, and they're already back, so you and Ginny will degnome it again after lunch." Mrs Weasley told her youngest son, hurrying through the kitchen to the oven to start preparing lunch. She stopped as she saw the package lying on the kitchen table.

"Ron did an owl arrive while I was out this morning?"

"No, but I was in my room most of the time and for the last two hours I was outside flying."

Ron picked the package up and opened it, several letters fell out, all addressed in the same very familiar handwriting of his best friend. He picked the one with his name on it and turned it over, inspecting it. His mother looked through the rest of the pile, registering the names and frowned.

"Why would Harry write us this many letters? He knows he shouldn't write at all, with You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters swarming around." Mrs Weasley sounded unsure. "Perhaps we should wait till your father is back to read them, all together at the same time."

Ron, who was in the process of opening the letter addressed to him, locked up.

"Why? Why can't I read it now? Harry is my best mate, why shouldn't I read a letter addressed to me?"

Mrs Weasley sighed.

"Is this the first time that Harry sent a letter this summer?"

"Yes." Ron frowned.

"And so far, Harry has never written to every one of us at the same time. Why should he do now? And send them all together? It must be something important, and I don't want to miss anything in these letters. Perhaps he needed to tell us something but could not write it down in a straightforward way. Instead he wrote all of us letters. There could be separate clues in every one of those. And perhaps we'll have to contact Professor Dumbledore, depending on the content. I have an uneasy feeling about this, so I want to wait for your father." Mrs Weasley told him sternly.

Ron sighed and placed the letter back on the kitchen table.

"Okay."

"Be a dear and floo call your brothers. I want them here this evening. I want us all to read these letters at the same time and see if we can't puzzle together whatever is going on with Harry."

Ron was halfway to the fireplace when he hesitated.

"But Mum, there is even a letter for Percy." He spoke in a quiet voice.

Mrs Weasley, who had turned around and started to chop vegetables for lunch, paused.

"Send it with Errol to him but add a note and explain the situation."

Ron looked at his mother's back, gnawing on his lower lip. The situation with Percy was hard for his parents, especially his mother, together with the war breaking out and the happenings a few weeks ago at the Department of Mystery she was constantly worrying. Walking over to her, he briefly hugged her back and whispered: "Everything will be okay, you will see." Then he left the kitchen to find parchment, quill and ink.

* * *

After arriving at Riddle Manor, Marvolo called for the house-elves Lucius had sent over earlier and asked which wing had been cleaned and was available. He did not like being at the Manor, but it was the only property available at the moment. He planned to go to Gringotts after gaining the Lordship to see if there were properties from the Slytherin inheritance available. He did not want to stay in Riddle Manor any longer than necessary. It was long past it's glories days, dark and threatful.

Severus trailed silently behind him as he made his way to one of the cleaned chambers. He was surprised when he opened the door. The house-elves had worked wonders. The room was clean and smelled fresh, the fireplace was lit and the furniture looked used, but well kept. It was a spacious room, with big windows looking out over the gardens. A big soft cream coloured carpet muffled their steps. The seating area contained a small settee and two armchairs, all in darker tones.

Marvolo laid down on the settee, while Severus took one of the armchairs and placed the two potion vials on the table between them. The Potions Master then called one of the house-elves to bring tea and water.

"The detoxification will certainly dehydrate you, my Lord. It would be best to drink enough before taking the healing potion."

Marvolo nodded in understanding, took the potion and emptied the vial in one swallow, then he laid down again and closed his eyes.

He could feel the potion moving down, settling into his stomach. A cold burning started to radiate through his body, centred somewhere in the middle of his body. He could practically feel the potion shifting through his blood stream, intruding into his muscles, bones and organs, searching and gathering all the remnants of the resurrection potion.

* * *

Severus brought out a notebook and a quill. He would carefully watch and note down the effects of the potions. He had already placed his emergency potion kit beside his chair. He was fairly sure that he brewed the potions correctly, but because the healing part was such an unknown quantity he wanted to be prepared for everything.

The moment the detoxification began the Dark Lord went stiff, he tensed all his muscles and fisted his hands.

Severus knew it would not be pleasant and it would be so much worse if the man before him did not relax, so he opened his potions bag and brought out another vial. He opened it and heated the liquid inside with a quick warming charm. Then he put the vial on the table near the Dark Lords head and directed the fumes with his wand in his direction, making it possible for the man to inhale it with every breath he took.

After a few moments, the soothing and relaxing properties started working and the abused muscles relaxed while the body sank further into the cushions, letting the detox-potion work.

Severus settled back into his armchair and observed carefully. When the Dark Lord shuddered violently he conjured a bucket beside the settee. A few more shattered breaths and the Dark Lord leaned over and brought up everything the potion had found and removed from his body. It took several minutes before the red-eyed man leaned back on the settee, drawing rasping breaths, and nodded gratefully when Severus handed him a glass of water followed by a cup of tea with honey to sooth his throat.

"That was certainly not pleasant." The Dark Lord rasped.

Severus only nodded and waited. The man before him sighed and reached for the other vial, emptying it again in one swallow.

The potion's effect was immediate, the Dark Lord's body shuddered, and his eyes rolled back and blacked out. Severus was at his side instantly, checking him for his vitals and was relieved to find them a little fast, perhaps, but strong.

Severus observed, fascinated how the body before him changed slowly. The nose grew, and the white complexion changed to a healthier colour- still pale, like he had not seen the sun in a long time, but with a light golden undertone. His figure filled out a little, enough to change from thin to slim. All in all, he looked entirely human again.

In the end, the healing process took far less time than Severus had anticipated. About an hour later, the man on the settee groaned and opened his eyes slowly. Severus noticed that they were still a dark red colour. It seemed the changed eye colour was not caused by the resurrection potion.

The Dark Lord slowly sat up and reached the pain-relieving potion Severus had placed on the table for him, drinking it gratefully.

Severus observed as the man conjured a small mirror and examined his reflection. The long, elegant fingers running over the bridge of his nose, together with the high cheekbones and well-formed brows gave his face aristocratic lines and made him quite handsome. He did not look older than thirty-five.

"It seemed the eyes are a result of the Horcruxes or perhaps the excessive use of Dark Magic." The Dark Lord spoke, his voice which had already lost its hissing undertones due to the soul-piece merging, was now a deep and melodic baritone.

"Yes, it seems so, my Lord." Severus hesitated. "If you want, I have a hair-lengthening potion at hand."

The Dark Lord looked again in the mirror and ran his finger through the short dark curls.

"That would be beneficial."

Severus placed another potions vial in front of the Dark Lord, who prepared himself another cup of tea and leaned back on the settee.

"That will be all for now Severus. You should return to Hogwarts or your own house, in case the Headmaster summons you. Come back when you have something noteworthy to report. I will call for you should I need you." The Dark Lord dismissed him.

"Yes, my Lord."

Severus stood up, bowed and left the room.

* * *

 **AN:** Thanks for reading, let me know what you think.

Many thanks to a-bit-of-madness for helping to improve my spelling and grammar.

First published: 12th of September 2018

Last edited: 25th of November 2018


	9. The Head of the DMLE

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or anything in the HP Universe.

 **AN:** Thank you all for reading, following, favouring and reviewing.

This chapter is not betaed, so all mistakes are my own.

 **On with the story.**

* * *

 **Chapter 9: The Head of the DMLE**

Thaddaeus Nott, Lord of House Nott and renowned solicitor, took a deep breath, gathered his papers, threw floo powder into the fireplace, and stepped through to the Ministry of Magic.

This would be the most important, most satisfying case in his career. Not only would he be working openly for his Lord without someone screaming Death Eater at him, they would also get the better of the Minister, those cowards in the Wizengamot and Dumbledore.

He could not hide his smirk entirely, he felt like a school boy again on the first ride to Hogwarts, giddy with excitement.

Acknowledging acquaintances but not stopping on his way, he took the elevator to the DMLE. Stepping into the reception area of the office for the Head of DMLE, he greeted the secretary with a warm smile.

"Good Day to you, Gerta. You look lovely today."

Madam Bones secretary, Gerta Wilkins, a middle-aged woman who was frighteningly efficient in her work, gave him a welcoming smile.

"Lord Nott, how nice to see you. What can I do for you today?"

"Is Madam Bones available? I have something very urgent to discuss with her."

"She is in her office and her next appointment is in fifty-five minutes. One moment please, Lord Nott, I will check if she has time for you." She smiled at him again, stood up and knocked shortly at the office door. Without waiting to be asked to come inside, she stepped in and closed it behind her.

Only seconds later the door opened again and Gerta stepped outside.

"She is available and waiting for you, Lord Nott." She gestured to the open door and went back to her work.

Thaddaeus nodded gratefully and stepped into the office. It was a welcoming room done in light, creamy colours, with dark wooden furniture. On the left were two armchairs and a settee grouped in front of a fireplace, to the right, bookshelves and filing cabinets lined the wall, at the far end stood a massive desk in front of a large window.

Madam Bones sat behind her desk, stacked with parchments and looked up when she heard the door closing. She sent him a small smile and set aside her quill.

"Ah, Lord Nott. What a surprise, what can I do for you? Gerta said it was something urgent?"

Thaddaeus smiled back and tilted his head slightly in greeting, gathering his thoughts as he chose his words carefully.

"Madam Bones, thank you for speaking with me. It concerns a new client of mine, who is in quite a predicament. He wants to abide by the law, but he is concerned that due to his past and his identity, he will not be treated unbiased by the Wizengamot. He made some unfortunate decision and foolish mistakes in his youth, leading him down a very dark path, which he deeply regrets. He fears that because of this he would be instantly sentenced to the Kiss if he were to stand trial before the Wizengamot. We hope you, as the Head of the DMLE, could and would help us save him from being condemned because of something he had no control over. And as there is a group of people fixated on bringing him down, his case is quite urgent. You have the power to call in a Wizengamot session on short notice and are known for being fair and unbiased and therefore our best chance to enable a fair trial."

Madam Bones listened with keen interest and Thaddaeus could practically see the gears turning in her head. She was known for being fair and sticking to the law, and that someone could be condemned unfairly violated her sense of justice.

"This sounds like your client is in quite a predicament." She leaned back in her chair and regarded him with an intense look, betraying none of her thoughts.

Thaddaeus smiled pleasantly at her, excitement filling him. Madam Bones was intelligent and observant. She was well versed in the political game and played it well. It would not be easy to convince her, even with all their evidence – real and fake – and she would take everything they presented apart, trying to find the deceptions and gaps in their story.

He hadn't had such an opponent in a long time, and she would make an immensely strong ally.

"Yes, he certainly is. May I tell you the details?" He still smiled at her.

"Certainly, Lord Nott. Please take a seat, I will call for tea." Madam Bones stood up, gestured to the seating area in front the fireplace and walked to the door, presumably talking with her secretary.

Thaddaeus took a seat in one of the armchairs, while Madam Bones sat in the other one, a few moments later Gerta stepped into the office and placed a tea set at the small table between them.

"Thank you Gerta," Madam Bones smiled at her "Will you please inform Mister Worthington that his appointment needs to be moved to tomorrow? I have the feeling this will take some time."

"Certainly, Madam Bones." Gerta nodded and left the office, closing the door behind her.

Madam Bones waited till both of them had prepared their tea, then she settled into her armchair and indicated for him to carry on.

Thaddaeus took a sip from his teacup and started to tell her the story his Lord and himself had put together an hour ago.

"Let me first tell you background story of my client. As a child, he was orphaned and grew up in Muggle London during the last Muggle war. It left him with a deep fear of death. When he came to Hogwarts, he thought he could escape the violence, but his request to stay at Hogwarts during the summer was refused every time, and the war with Grindelwald only deepened his fear. Nevertheless, my client loved Hogwarts and still calls it his first real home. He graduated with impressive N.E.W.T.s and applied for the Defence position there. He was ambitious, but he always wanted to give something back to Hogwarts. Teaching there, helping children - perhaps even some who, like him, were orphaned or needed help to find their way in the magical world- called to him. But as he was told he was too young, Headmaster Dippert suggested that he gain experience and then come back. Taking the Headmaster's advice, he decided to travel the world, and as he was interested in obscure, ancient and forgotten magic, he visited old ruins and isolated magical areas."

Thaddaeus observed Madam Bones expression carefully, without staring too obviously. So far, nothing he had told was exactly a lie. She listened with a calm expression, not even hinting if she had a guess who his client was.

"He told me that he lived with an old tribe in India, rumours were that they practiced old and forgotten magical rituals. Not all of them were magical, the villages he lived in were equally habituated by magical and non-magical residents. They were normally suspicious of strangers, but after staying more than a year, they welcomed him and allowed him to observe their rituals and learn magic from them."

Thaddaeus swirled the tea in his teacup and took a sip. Now came the part he was not sure if his Lord had lied about or not.

"Near their village was an old cavern filled with enticing dark magic, trying to lure everyone who stepped near it inside. The villagers had warned him about it, but one day he got lost on his way back to the village and felt the pull. As he is a natural Occlumence, he could resist the lure, but he knew that this cavern was a constant danger to the village, especially to the children. Many had followed the pull into the cavern and were never seen again." He sighed. "My client was young, only just out of Hogwarts, but he knew he was powerful. He decided to investigate the cavern, hoping to find a way to dispel the dark malicious magic, and remove the danger for the village. He himself said he was too arrogant at that time, young and foolish."

Thaddaeus could see that Madam Bones was definitely intrigued by the story.

"He went into the cavern, and he found… not really dark magic, he described it as a mesmerising, powerful presence, filled with malice and a dark hunger under the enchanting surface. My client does not know if it was a curse, a dark magical object or residue from a dark ritual. He described it as if it had a mind of his own. He had never heard or encountered something similar ever again. Our theory so far, is that it could have been a residue from a powerful and malicious magical being which died in the cavern. What he remembers, is that this malicious presence took hold of him, invaded him. It settled into his mind, leaving the cavern clean and empty. My client stumbled back to the village and was ill for a few days. Afterwards it first seemed like nothing was amiss. He stayed in India for a few more weeks and then left, to see more of the world."

He placed his teacup on the table and folded his legs, resting his hands on his knee.

"What he did not realize at that time, was that the presence changed him. This _thing_ took hold of his mind, feasted on his fears and his ambition, feeding him dark thoughts. He grew paranoid, searching all over the world for more power. This _thing_ took his fear of death and twisted it, making him obsessed with immortality. He spiralled into insanity, hungry for more power. In this state my client was not himself anymore, he had no control over his mind and his actions."

Thaddaeus gave Madam Bones a moment to process everything so far. He could see that they had her interest and her compassion for a young man who seemingly suffered because of understandable foolishness.

"At this point my client came back to Britain and applied for the Defence Professor position again, he wanted to change wizarding Britain so that no child had to grow up like him. At this point there was still enough of him left to see the stagnation the magical society was content with, and he wanted to change this. But Headmaster Dippert had resigned and Headmaster Dumbledore refused him the post. The refusal fractured his already damaged mind even more, he always had thought as Hogwarts as his home and now it was taken away from him. He threw away his birthname and started to gather followers under an alias. The further he fell into insanity the more his goals were twisted. He performed rituals which should never be performed to obtain more power, changing and fracturing his mind and body nearly beyond repair. He grew violent. In the end, the foolish mistake of a young man named Tom Marvolo Riddle, led to the rise of Lord Voldemort."

The only indication that Madam Bones was shocked by the whole story was a brief widening of her eyes. She had listened intently so far, letting him speak without interruption. But now Thaddaeus could see thousands of questions in her eyes.

"Fifteen years ago, his paranoia was at its peak and he heard of a prophecy. A prophecy about a child destined to end him, or so he thought. He decided to take care of the threat immediately. At this point, he had slipped so deep into the dark arts, he was disfigured and completely insane. So, on the 31st of October 1981, he entered into the Potter family home in Godric's Hollow and attempted to kill the entire family little Harry Potter somehow survived and Lord Voldemort disappeared, but not completely. My client remembers that he had performed a ritual, days before, anchoring his live force and magic. So only his body was destroyed on this night, the anchor he used was destroyed instead of his spirit. He was cast out of his body and fled, as a spirit."

Thaddaeus gave her a few moments to gather her thoughts. It was clear he was not finished, but the situation was too delicate to rush.

"My client does not remember much from his time as a bodiless spirit, but what he does know is the malicious presence was destroyed with his body., His mind was still fractured, however, leaving him insane, the damage was too severe. Two years ago, he was found by an old follower. He regained a temporary body, but the insanity took him over even in this new form. They forged a plan to get him his old body back, which was successfully executed on the day of the third task of the Triwizard Tournament. Lord Voldemort rose again, still powerful, still violent and still insane."

"An interesting story. But why, Lord Nott, are you coming to me with it?" Madam Bones interrupted him for the first time, her expression carefully blank, not giving away her thoughts on the matter even one bit.

"Because the incident in the Ministry a few weeks ago had unpredictable consequences, which led to Mr. Riddle realising what had happened. He sought out help and regained his sanity and human body. Lord Voldemort is no more. But Tom Marvolo Riddle will be condemned for crimes he was not responsible for."

* * *

Severus heard the fireplace in his living room come to life and knew it could be only one person calling.

"Severus, my boy, are you there?" The unmistakable voice of the Headmaster called through the Floo connection.

Sighing, Severus set his teacup and newspaper aside and walked from the kitchen to the fireplace.

He already knew what this would be about- the letter from Potter. Even during the summer holidays, he could not escape the brat. At least this time, besides doing something dangerous or breaking rules, the outcome was interesting and beneficial to Severus.

"Yes, Albus. I am here." He acknowledged the old wizard.

Albus' head in the fireplace looked in his direction and smiled.

"Ah, wonderful. If you have the time, could you please come through? I have something to discuss with you." The look the Headmaster sent him told him how important the matter was.

Severus sneered mentally, but he also was curious. What did Potter write in his letter to the Headmaster? Did he mention he wrote a letter to Severus? It was not likely that he did, so the Headmaster would believe him completely ignorant of the matter.

"Certainly. Give me a moment."

"Wonderful," Albus head disappeared.

Mentally preparing himself, Severus threw Floo powder into the fireplace and called out the Headmaster's office.

As he stepped through, he saw Albus already sitting at his desk. "Severus have a seat. Lemon drop?"

Mentally sneering, he declined the offered sweet and sat in one of the chairs in front of Albus desk. "What do you want to discuss with me? As you know, the summer holidays are the only time I can freely dedicate myself to potions brewing and research."

"Ah yes, and I am sorry to separate you from your potions research, but yesterday I got a very concerning letter from Harry." Albus looked over his halfmoon-glasses at him with a troubled expression.

"You called me here to discuss a letter from _Potter_?" Severus sneered the name in disgust. He still did not like the boy, and he was sure he never would. Even if his recent actions had been beneficial to Severus, and he had shown some intelligence and cunning, that he took actions without consulting an adult only showed the arrogance of the boy. He would protect him, for Lily and for the oath, but if the Dark Lord did leave him be, his job would be easier and his contact with the boy would minimise. He was looking forward to it.

"What did Potter have to say? Whining about the hot weather? That he was not allowed to stay with his friends yet? That he stubbed his toe?" He sneered.

Albus looked disappointed with him at this, but Severus could not care less.

"I really had hoped that the Occlumency lessons had brought an understanding between the two of you. But alas, I did not call you here to talk about what could have been," the Headmaster sighed.

"No, Harry sent me a letter in which he told me that he found a way to bring back Tom's sanity and that he already went through with it. It concerns me that Harry did not consult with me in that matter, but after the last school year I should not be too surprised by it. He does not trust me completely anymore, I fear. As I don't know how exactly Harry has healed Voldemort of his insanity, and till I got the letter I had not thought it was even possible, I am reluctant to believe it completely. And even if it is the case, Tom is still alive. With his sanity undamaged, I fear he will be an even greater threat. I am sure he will not change his ways. Even as a child and teenager he already was ruthless and sadistic. We must determine if Tom has his sanity back and how this changes him and his plans, and we must find out how Harry managed to do it. He wishes to be left alone by me, but perhaps someone else could visit him." The Headmaster shook his head sadly. "I just don't know who to send."

"You want me to go?" Severus asked him, astonished. He had not thought Albus to be this oblivious of the relationship between himself and Potter.

"No, Merlin no. I know Harry would only react badly if I sent you. I thought perhaps Remus or Minerva."

Severus nodded, relieved and watched Albus intensely.

"Severus, did Tom send for you?" Albus enquired with an odd look in his eyes, devoid of the trademark twinkle.

Severus thought fast. If he affirmed that he had been called, Albus would asked why he did not report immediately and his Lord had not told him what he was allowed to tell the Headmaster.

"So far the Dark Lord did not send for me, but if what you say is true, I am sure he will set a meeting with his inner circle soon. How sure are you, Headmaster, that the letter was not a prank or that Potter made things up to gain attention?" Severus kept his face blank.

Albus sighed. "I am sure that Harry would not lie to me in this matter. Please, Severus, my boy, report immediately if you hear from Tom. Now, who do…"

The fireplace in the Headmaster's office flared up.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, your attendance is needed in an emergency Wizengamot meeting in thirty minutes." An official sounding voice rang through the office.

Severus smiled inwardly, it seemed Thaddaeus had been successful. If everything went as they wanted, his Lord would be a normal citizen in a few hours and could claim the title of Lord Slytherin. Everything would change.

He only wished he could be present at the trial to see Albus' face when his Lord was declared not guilty and free to go.

He looked at Albus as the fire died down. The Headmaster looked startled, it seemed he had not anticipated what the next actions of a sane Dark Lord would be and that he would move so fast. They had counted on this. Albus was oblivious.

"I am sorry, Severus. As you heard I am needed at the Ministry. We will resume this conversation tomorrow morning. Perhaps I will call for an Order meeting." Albus stood and walked to door leading to Headmaster residence.

"Then I will take my leave, Albus."

Severus did not wait for Albus to answer but stepped though the Floo network back home. He could not supress a small smile, it seemed everything was proceeding like his Lord wanted.

Theoretically he should report to his Lord about the meeting with Albus, but as his Lord was in the Ministry now, he decided to go to Malfoy Manor. Narcissa would attend the Wizengamot meeting as a proxy for her – theoretically - absent husband and could tell him how everything went after he returned.

Meanwhile, he would drink some tea, or something stronger with Lucius and ask Draco if he wanted to join him at brewing.

He had not spent a lot of time with his Godson since the holiday's had started.

* * *

Amelia Bones had thought nothing could surprise her anymore, after years of working as the Head of DMLE and sitting in trials minor and major ones, but the story Lord Nott had told her and the evidence he had brought with him, certainly took her by surprise.

She knew the moment Lord Nott revealed the name of his client what they wanted from her, knew why they would come to her. She was known for upholding the law to the letter. But she also knew that the law could be used and interpreted unjustly, and she recognized manipulation when she saw it.

She was uncertain what she should think about the case in front of her. The story was believable, but also suspicious. Who could believe that the evilest Dark Wizard had only acted because of insanity? And that said insanity was induced by some dark magic?

Could she believe that Lord Voldemort was only a fabrication born from a shattered mind and dark magic?

Could she believe that the man named Tom Riddle was innocent of what he had done while being Lord Voldemort?

Of course she couldn't, not a hundred percent, but the evidence Lord Nott lay before her spoke for itself.

Even she was not completely unbiased when it came to Voldemort, she had lost loved ones in the last war, but she was professional enough to push her own feelings for the matter aside and look at the evidence as if it was any other case.

She carefully read through the medical report done by Healer Aurora Fawley, a young but already renowned healer working at St. Mungos, specialising in the healing of dark curses and their influence on the mind. The report entailed that residues of dark magic had been found while examining Mr Riddle earlier that day, but they were fading. More in-depth examination had revealed that Mr Riddle's mind had been fractured at a young age by malicious magic but was healing now and was no longer touched by whatever magic had caused this. The report concluded that Mr Riddle had been mentally ill because of the malicious magic but was now healthy in mind and body.

The Pensieve memories Lord Nott had brought with him further confirmed what he had told her, and what the medical report implied. The memories from Tom Riddle as a teenager were all clear, showing an intelligent and ambitious young man, touched by the fear of two wars, magical and muggle. The time in India showed him to be patient, grateful and eager to discover other magical ways. The memories from the cave where disturbing, so dark and full of fear that it was hard to see anything clearly. The memories afterwards all had a dark edge, like a shadow lurking at the periphery of their awareness.

The memories grew misty and darker with time. Amelia could see how this dark shadow influenced the young and eager mind at its mercy. Tom Riddle's actions and thoughts grew volatile, erratic, and after his return to Great Britain, violent. Not only his appearance, but also his mind changed dramatically till nothing was left of the young and intelligent man from before.

There were not many memories from his time as a bodiless spirit, and those were even harder to understand than the ones from the insane Dark Lord. The mist of insanity did not lift, even after he had a body again, but the dark shadow was gone from those memories.

One memory stood out from all the others, because of the clarity. When Lord Voldemort possessed Harry Potter in the Ministry of Magic by some dark magic apparently, the connection to a complete and sane mind, and someone so young and innocent, lifted the insanity briefly in Voldemort's mind.

In that short moment, Tom Riddle realized the fractures in his own mind, and even as the insanity crept back in, ordered his followers to, not only put him into a magical coma, but also to find a cure against magical induced insanity and heal his fractured mind.

The last memory was from a Tom Riddle, waking up for the first time since his early twenties with a clear mind and the horrifying memories of what Lord Voldemort had done.

Coming out of the Pensieve she had stored in her office, Amelia could not disregard the evidence before her and when Lord Nott started to explain the law of Haxby to her, she knew what she had to do. Even if in her heart she could not believe that Tom Riddle was not Lord Voldemort, the hard evidence before her did not allow any other action.

She immediately called for an emergency Wizengamot session and trial and ordered Lord Nott to bring in his client.

Lord Nott left through her fireplace and came back only moments later. His client seemingly had waited for his call.

When the figure stepped into her office, Amelia scrutinized him curiously. He certainly looked nothing like the reports described Lord Voldemort to look.

Short dark locks carefully styled around his handsome aristocratic face, his dark eyes settling on her as he greeted her with a small smile. He was tall and did not look older then mid-thirty.

"Greetings, Madam Bones. I appreciate your giving me the chance to present my case." His voice was a rich baritone and Amelia felt herself relaxing slightly. He did not sound like a madman.

"Certainly, Mr Riddle. The evidence Lord Nott presented was very convincing. I already called in a Wizengamot meeting, which is set to begin in thirty minutes. In this time, I wish to speak to you myself and, if you are willing, learn some more details of your story from yourself."

"I am at your service, Madam Bones. I have no secrets and everything that helps the esteemed Wizengamot members to be convinced of my innocence, I am more than willing to tell you."

Amelia gestured to the seating area and settled herself in her armchair again, watching her two guests taking their seats.

In the next thirty minutes she would determine for herself if Mr Riddle was sincere or not.

* * *

Harry looked up from the picture he was drawing as he heard the rustle of feathers. Hedwig had returned a few hours ago and after something to drink, had hid her head under her wing and slept.

Harry had actually tried to write his memoirs but had lost interest fast, instead he started drawing. He drew Hogwarts how it looked in his mind- his friends, his teacher, parts of his nightmares and scenes from his adventures in Hogwarts, and Hedwig as she slept.

But now she was awake and landed on his shoulder, crooking her head.

Harry laughed and held up the picture of her he'd tried to draw.

"I know, definitely not a masterpiece, but at least you can tell it's an owl."

Hedwig hooted in conformation, or at least Harry interpreted it as such.

"Had a nice sleep?" He set the picture aside and stroke her feathers softly.

"Up for another trip this afternoon?" He stood up and walked to the desk, looking over the small number of letters left and picked up four of them.

"Mmh… I think we can send these together." Hedwig hopped on the desk and held up her leg. After Harry secured the letters, she slipped through the gaps between the bars on his window and took flight.

Harry went back to sit at his desk and started on another drawing.

* * *

Sometime around noon a house-elf had brought him sandwiches for lunch, on which Draco had nibbled while reading through a stack of books-at least he thought it was lunch, he wasn't sure.

He had taken over the reading desk, but the space on the table had been completely filled with books after a short time. Now the floor around him resembled a labyrinth made of books.

Draco sipped on a goblet of water as he turned a page of the book he was reading in the moment, paused and grabbed a quill and parchment starting to scribble frantically. Turning to the next page, he frowned and flung the book away, snarling.

He stood up and walked to the bookshelves, gripping his hair in frustration.

Somewhere there had to be something helpful.

He wandered deeper into the library, to one of the darker sections.

A small, leather-bound book caught his attention. The title written on the inside proclaimed it to be about the combination of wards, sacrificial protection and blood magic.

Potter had written something about blood wards and his mother's sacrifice protecting him.

Even if Draco found a way to share his knowledge with someone, would these wards allow them to step through?

The Horcrux problem could be solved later, after he had made sure that the imbecile lived.

* * *

 **AN:** Thanks for reading, let me know what you think.

Many thanks to a-bit-of-madness for helping to improve my spelling and grammar.

First published: 24th of September 2018

Last edited: 6th of December 2018


	10. Ron's letter

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or anything in the HP Universe.

 **AN:** Thank you all for reading, following, favouring and reviewing. You all deserve hugs and salted-caramel ice-cream.

In the last weeks my beta, a-bit-of-madness, and I edited the nine chapters so far and finally we caught up and can present you a new AND already beta'ed chapter.

Many many thanks and hugs for a-bit-of-madness, with her help I think the story is flowing so much better.

I only wanted to say that I am still working on all my stories, but November is a really emotional bad month because of the unexpected death of a young family member two years ago, therefore I only had the energy to go over the beta'ed chapters a-bit-of-madness send me and edit them. But now I am on a four weeks holiday from my very demanding job and can relax and I hope to get back on track.

Have fun reading and I wish you all a wonderful Christmas time.

 **On with the story.**

* * *

 **Chapter 10: Ron's letter**

Severus found Lucius in his favourite tea room of Malfoy Manor, parchments in hand and tea at his side.

"Lucius, care for company?"

The blond looked up, greeted him with a nod and a gesture to sit down, while putting his reading material on top of a pile of parchment and books covering a side table.

"Work?" Severus eyed the parchment.

"In a way. I looked through everything I need to give to my solicitor to present my case in front of the Wizengamot. Depending on the outcome of today's trial I will contact him tomorrow."

"How do you think the Wizengamot session will go?" Severus enquired, calling for a house-elf to bring him some coffee with a shot of rum - he needed something stronger then tea in the moment.

"Long and nasty," Lucius said with a grin. "I have no doubt that Dumbledore will try to take control of the trial the moment he realizes who is standing before him and try to find a loophole in the law to prevent our Lord from being declared innocent. But having Madam Bones on our side is certainly an advantage. She convened this emergency meeting and will present the case. That she was willing to do it immediately shows the evidence Lord Nott presented her with was at least good enough to warrant a trial, if not totally convincing. I am sure she is highly displeased with our Lord, but she will see that the law is followed to the letter." Lucius smirked.

"It could also mean that Madam Bones wanted to take the opportunity to bring our Lord to justice," Severus pointed out.

"I think it is both, but in the end, she will see that the law is upheld, and I doubt that our Lord would have went this way without one hundred percent fool proof evidence."

Severus sighed and sipped his coffee, the warmth of the drink and the alcohol soothing his nerves. "I really hope so, my friend."

They sat together and talked about Severus newest research interest and Lucius' plan to invest in a new, young racing broom company. At one point a house-elf brought the afternoon tea, with sandwiches, pastries and cake.

"Tell my son that his godfather is here and that we are having afternoon tea. We would appreciate his presence." Lucius addressed the house-elf, who's huge eyes became even larger as she interlocked her long fingers in worry.

"Tally can't do this. Tally is sorry. Tally can't follow master's orders." The house-elf's voice pitched and quivered.

"Why not?" Lucius snapped at her impatiently.

Severus sighed as Lucius snapped at the elf. The man had no patience for house-elves who did not follow orders immediately, even if they had a good reason not to, or with house-elves in general.

Narcissa was the one who had the most contact with their house-elves. She oversaw the household, the household budget, the daily work, the workers and house-elves and the punishments if one was needed. He never bothered with the elves as long as they did their job adequately and followed his orders.

But if they dared to disobey him, he was known to lose his temper. Disobedience was something Lucius could not tolerate or handle, especially from someone so far beneath his notice. Severus always had the impression that servants and house-elves were on equal level to the furniture, if furniture could talk, for Lucius. He spared them no thoughts and had never understood that a happy and well-treated servant was a loyal servant.

Severus had thought that the blonde had at least learned after the debacle with one of his house-elves a few years ago. He did not know exactly what had happened, only that the elf disappeared afterwards, and that Potter had been somehow involved. Potter again…

Severus shook his head and shifted his attention back to the house-elf.

"Master Draco has locked himself in the Library. Tally's bringing him food but not allowed to disturb further. Master Draco's orders. He's not to be disturbed."

At least Narcissa had managed to teach her house-elves better speech patterns than the average house-elf, for which Severus was grateful. The Hogwarts elves often caused him a headache.

Lucius looked surprised. "Locked in the Library?"

The elf nodded, and his big ears flopped up and down. "Yes, Master Lucius."

"To do what?"

"Tally does not know. Master Draco not telling."

Lucius exchanged a glance with Severus and waved the house-elf away.

"Perhaps some especially difficult homework?" The blond mused, Severus could not supress a snort at that and reached for the teapot to pour himself a cup, adding a lemon and a little bit sugar to it.

"Please, Lucius, you know that Draco is one of the top students in his year and I know what summer homework was assigned. He told me last week that he finished it all already. Perhaps an individual or private project?"

"Easiest way to find out would be to ask him."

"You know your son. If he is obsessing over something he will not be in a good mood when interrupted. Let's wait till Dinner, if he has not emerged from the Library by then, we will talk with him. I do not want to encounter an angry Draco. He will be ranting and whining if we disturb him in whatever he is obsessed with in the moment." Severus shuddered a little.

Draco's tantrums were as legendary as his obsessions.

Lucius inclined his head, then smirked at his friend. "Do you remember when he was five and was absolutely certain that you were a vampire?"

Severus laughed. "Oh yes, he was completely convinced with the idea. Followed me whenever he could and tried to explain that I did not realize it so far. He went so far as to forbid me to go outside in fear I would crumble to ashes under the sun."

Both men laughed at the memory.

"Or when he was ten and certain you had Veela ancestors?" Severus grinned and took a sip of his tea.

"Oh yes, I remember that particular phase. Drove Narcissa and I absolutely mad. He barricaded himself in the library and went through all the Malfoy family records. He was devasted when he could not find Veelas in our family tree." Lucius smiled. "Didn't speak with us for days, as if it was our fault."

"But the biggest obsession so far is certainly Potter, it's been going for five years now and even as a child he loved to hear the stories of _Harry Potter_ ," the Potions Master sneered. "He can't leave him alone in school, always tries to get a reaction out of Potter, always tries to be better. This bloody school rivalry destroyed more than one cauldron during my class. Why Draco wants the attention of Potter is beyond me. I certainly would be happy to never have to interact with the arrogant prat ever again."

Lucius groaned. "Don't remind me. Every letter since first-year Potter is mentioned at least twice, complaining and whining about him. It certainly doesn't sound like a typical school rivalry relationship. If Potter had been a girl, or grown up in the old ways, I already would have contacted his guardians and negotiated a betrothal contract with them, just to get Draco to shut up."

"Merlin forbid!" Severus looked horrified by the mere idea. Lucius only laughed at him.

"What? Draco's letters really sound more like he is trying to pull Potter's pigtails." Lucius' expression grew pensive. "Now that Potter is under the protection of our Lord, perhaps I can stir Draco to start a friendship with him. Even if our Lord is sane now, after the disaster at the Ministry the Malfoy's standing in the inner circle is a little shaken. And as we have to play our role of being forced into his service for the public, it would not hurt to be on better terms with Potter."

Severus still looked horrified at his friend. "But Potter wants to disappear."

"You think Dumbledore and our Lord will allow this? He is our Lord's Horcrux. Yes, he wrote he would try to destroy it, but if he really could he would have done it already. Why would he carry a soul-shard of his parents' murderer with him for longer than needed? He would have gotten rid of it at the first possibility. But he did not, he kept it, and sent all the other soul pieces back. As he is a living being like Nagini, with their own souls, I don't think you can separate the soul-shard from the carrier's soul. To destroy such a Horcrux you would have to…" Lucius' head snapped wide-eyed to Severus, who frowned not catching on immediately.

Then realization hit him. "You don't think he will…?"

"What do you think, Severus? You know the boy better than me."

Severus pondered several moments about this.

"No… no, I don't think Potter would go this far. He is much too Gryffindor for this. He is too arrogant, he has all this fame and bathes in it. Why should he throw it away? He has his adoring fans and everything. Why should he throw away his perfect little life? Nothing so far hinted that Potter has suicidal tendencies, neither how he behaves at school and nor anything he put in his letter." Severus assured his friend and himself, but he saw that Lucius was not completely convinced and a nagging feeling, that they had overlooked something, remained in Severus.

They were silent for a few minutes, eating sandwiches and drinking tea. Then Lucius looked at the grandfather clock and grinned.

"They should be in the middle of the meeting by now. I wish I could have witnessed Dumbledore's face when our Lord walked into the chamber, I'm certain it was priceless."

Severus chuckled. "It would have definitely made my day."

* * *

Marvolo walked behind Thaddaeus and Madam Bones to the trial chambers of the Wizengamot. The talk with Madam Bones had gone very well.

Oh, he saw how she struggled with herself, with her hate for the name Lord Voldemort, and tried to separate him from the wizard who had terrorized wizarding Britain for so long and killed members of her family. She was not succeeding entirely.

He also saw that she was displeased when she couldn't find any fault in their evidence, or his behaviour. There had been a nearly murderous glint in her eyes when she realized that she couldn't find anything to convict the man who had been Voldemort.

But he also had seen her will to uphold the law, despite her suspicion and personal opinion.

The background story he had spun with Lord Nott was perfect, after all the best lies always contained more than half the truth.

The medical report had not been hard to produce. After Severus had left, Marvolo had called one of his minor Death Eaters, Henley Fawley. He had put on glamours to look snake-like again and ordered him to bring his younger sister, Healer Aurora Fawley. The man had been terrified but had obeyed.

Miss Fawley was not a marked Death Eater, but her brother, her father and her uncle were, and she had helped previously when healing had been needed. She was not his usual healer, but Marvolo had remembered she specialised in dark curses and mind magic.

The young woman had been revolted by his appearance and had a hard time hiding it, which he could not fault her for, and had sworn an oath of secrecy on her life and that of her family. Then everything had been taken care of rather quickly. He had dissipated the glamours, explained to her what he wanted and needed in the medical report, and had even explained the soul splitting to a certain degree, as she performed the necessary medical screening spells.

It was not a surprise that the Horcruxes had left some residue dark magic, so all in all the medical report had not been modified much and was quite accurate.

The Pensieve memories were a different matter altogether. It was very hard to tamper with memories.

The trick was not to change something obvious in the memory, but to disperse the parts nobody should see and put something from another memory in their place. The memories couldn't be artificial, as it would never look natural, but merging one or two memories to fill the gaps left by the vanished parts formed natural looking memories, because everything used _was_ natural, even if they did not originally belong together.

Only a wizard with exceptional skills in Legilimency _and_ Occlumency could ever even try to attempt this, thankfully Marvolo was just such a wizard.

Nobody but himself knew the difference between the real memories and the fabricated ones, and it hadn't looked like Madame Bones or Lord Nott, who had watched them before he went to the Ministry, had noticed anything suspicious.

He had visited India once and even the half-muggle, half-magical village- which had been utterly disgusting. There had even been a cave, but he only had found a dark grimoire in it. Nothing of interest.

The memories containing the incidents in the Ministry and afterwards were harder to put together, because even while possessing Potter he had not realized his own insanity.

He had actually pondered quite a while how to fabricate them, but in the end the solution was as simple as it was brilliant.

He had contact with a sane mind and a whole soul during the possession, and he had seen some of Potters memories, especially as he drove him out with his ridiculously overwhelming feelings.

How someone could feel so much and not go insane was beyond him, even now, when he himself had his ability to feel emotions back, he shuddered a little at the memory. The emotions filling the boy had been so overwhelming and uncontrolled, like a brewing storm, if he had lingered any longer, he was sure he would have been swept away.

He simply used some of the feelings and memories from Potter to fill in the gaps, as they were his own and showed how he had seemingly regained his sanity due to the contact with the boy.

It had worked brilliantly, and Marvolo had a hard time suppressing the smug smile. He needed to maintain his calm mask. It would do him no good to look too confident, or arrogant.

This was important, his whole demeanour would have to be perfect. He had to convince them that he was shocked and felt responsible for the things Lord Voldemort had done, but that nothing that had transpired had been his choice.

The Wizengamot members were already seated when they entered the chambers, and Marvolo's gaze swept over the faces quickly. Narcissa was sitting on the Malfoy seat, just as he'd anticipated, but he didn't linger on her, only continued to find the one face he wanted to see.

Ah, there…

Dumbledore's face was priceless as he caught sight of who entered with Madam Bones and Lord Nott.

The old man went very pale, his mouth opened in shock, or perhaps because he wanted to say something, but no words came out. Marvolo was not even sure if he was breathing.  
Oh, how he wished the old goat would choke on one of his lemon drops.

He settled beside Lord Nott on one of the two chairs in the middle of the court room, Madam Bones took her own assigned seat, prepared to explain the reason for the emergency meeting.

Dumbledore, as it seemed, had found his breath again and stood up from his seat.

"Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore calls the seventh Emergency Wizengamot meeting in the year 1996 into order." He tapped his wand thrice on the Wizengamot sign on the desk before him. Wards sprung up and closed the chambers off. Nobody would be able to enter or leave now, either by muggle or magical means.

Dumbledore took his seat and gestured to Madam Bones, seemingly calm and collected, but Marvolo saw the flicker in his eyes and how he tried not to look at him.

Good, it seemed Potter had informed the Headmaster that he had tried to give him back his sanity, but Dumbledore appeared unsure as to if he should believe the boy. The old man tried to gauge if he was sane or not and he was unsure. Was Lord Voldemort sitting before him or Tom Riddle?

He would be in for a surprise, because Marvolo had decided, that he was neither.

"Madam Bones, you have the floor."

Marvolo heard the slight quiver in the old man's voice and smiled inwardly.

Let's see what other reactions he could bring forth from Dumbledore.

* * *

Ron glanced around the corner to the open kitchen door, straining to hear where his mother was. The kitchen was silent and when he stepped inside, he saw it was empty. After lunch, his mother had made him degnome the garden – again, and then sent him to do his summer homework, but he could not concentrate. His mind just kept drifting to the pile of letters from Harry. It was so strange and out of character for his best friend. Yes, they exchanged letters, but Harry had never written to all the members of his family. And so many letters the same time?

Technically he shouldn't be sending any letters at all, but Ron knew that Harry was going crazy at the Dursley's, like last summer when nobody had contacted him. When Harry had exploded shortly after arriving at Grimmauld place, Ron had realized how forgotten and abandoned his best mate had felt.

And now – now Harry was left alone again, after losing Sirius.

Ron shook his head, he did not understand the Headmaster's decision to send Harry back to the Dursley's and remind them to keep sending letters to a minimum. Did he not realize the damage it would do?

They had told him that it was a bad idea. That Harry needed to be with people who love him, who understood his grief for his godfather, but Dumbledore had only assured them that Harry would have all the support and peace he needed at home.

As if home was with the Dursley's, Ron snorted silently and shook his head. He knew something was not right and he was worried. The pile of letters only confirmed it.

So, where did his mother put the letters? She had picked the pile up before setting the table for lunch, but where did she put them?

Ron glanced around the kitchen, his eyes finding the drawer where his mother often put magazines, newspapers or correspondence which had been laying on the kitchen table. The letters lay on top of today's newspapers and Ron quickly grabbed the one meant for him, closed the drawer and left the kitchen, the letter hiding in his pocket.

When he was safely in his room, he opened it, unfolded the parchment and settled on his bed to read.

 _Dear Ron_

 _I am sure you are wondering why I am writing to you and your family. Let's say it's complicated._

 _First, I must confess something. You remember when we were sitting in the hospital wing at the end of the term? Hermione mentioned the prophecy and that it was a pity it broke._

 _I couldn't tell you in that moment, but it didn't matter that it broke. Dumbledore told me what it contained, because he knew the content all along. He was present when it was spoken. He told me after we came back from the Ministry._

 _It talks about the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord, born to those who defied him thrice, born at the end of July. It says the Dark Lord will mark him and that neither can live while the other survives._

 _The gist of it, is that I either will be killed or have to kill Voldemort._

 _Voldemort had only heard parts of it, that was the reason he attacked on Halloween fifteen years ago and because it backfired, he is – or was – obsessed with learning the whole content._

 _But Ron, I found a way to fulfil the prophecy without becoming a murderer!_

 _I am sure Dumbledore would have never agreed with my plan, so I told no one and went ahead with it. If you read this, it means I was successful._

 _The great snake-face is no more, I vanquished him, like the prophecy told._

 _It does not mean he is dead. You know I am no murderer._

 _I simply vanquished the safety net he had set up to prevent himself from dying, and I found a way to give him back his sanity._

 _The safety net he had built was based on parts of his soul, split from the main part and stored in objects, which led to insanity and dehumanization. I found a way to destroy these objects and the soul shards merging with the original one in his body did the rest._

 _There is only a soul piece left in Nagini, which can only be removed by killing her._

 _Even if he is an arrogant, power-hungry and sadistic git by nature, he is at least nearly mortal again and can comprehend the shit he's done._

 _Not even he can approve of the methods he had used to follow his goals. You know I was in his head a lot last school year. So, all the pain and the horrible visions were good for something in the end, because without the connection I would have never found the method to vanquish Lord Voldemort._

 _The connection via my scar is based on his unstable soul and the killing curse I survived and is also part of this safety net he built, even if it was unintentional._

 _I will attempt to sever the connection shortly. I want to be completely free of everything. The connection will be destroyed, the prophecy fulfilled, and I hope, Riddle will stop being so homicidal._

 _If not, kill the snake. Then Riddle will be mortal again, and the Order can defeat him._

 _So, let's see how he will behave. He was actually a real bastard down in the chamber, but that was only a part of his soul, and I'm not sure how sane it was after being enclosed in a diary for so long._

 _I know it's not the perfect solution, but the only other would have been for me to kill him. And yes, he may be the murderer of my parents and so many other people, but still, the thought of killing another living being did not sit well with me._

 _I mean, I couldn't even work up enough hatred to cast a successful_ Crucio _at Bellatrix, and she killed Sirius._

 _That's not the only reason I'm writing you, though. I… it's really hard to spell it out, but I'm going to try._

 _Ron, I can't take it anymore. I had a lot of time to think here at the Dursley's without any contact to a decent human._

 _Now that it's out that I in fact did_ _ **not**_ _lie the whole last year, I am sure the hero worship will sky rocket. I hate it. One second, I'm crazy and going evil, and in the next I am their hero again. I can't take it anymore._

 _Additionally, I found out some hard truths about Dumbledore and as much as I love and respect him, there are just some things I can't forgive, and I can't stand the thought of having to face him. It's as much his fault as it is mine, that Sirius died._

 _He made so many mistakes, while making decisions for all of us. I understand that he had a lot of responsibilities, but while thinking of the greater good, he overlooked the actual people._

 _He was the one to leave me at the Dursley's doorstep. You know how much I hate them, but you don't know all of it. The Dursley do not lock me in and withhold food_ _ **sometimes**_ _, that's the way it always is when I'm here._

 _I never told you because I was ashamed. The Great Harry Potter, couldn't even protect himself from Muggles…_

 _And Dumbledore left me there and never gave it a second thought. Yes, he has a war to prevent and win, and as the leader there is no one better, but as the one responsible for the welfare of children, he is abysmal._

 _Think about all the things that have happened since we attended Hogwarts, and then think about what he or any other of the teachers there have done._

 _What did he actually do for us while Umbridge terrorized the school and tortured students? Nothing!_

 _We were told to keep our heads down and that was it!_

 _So, as hard as it is, and I really will miss you and Hermione more than anyone, I've decided to disappear. I will lay low and vanish and try to come to terms with everything._

 _I will miss you. You are my best friend, the first friend I ever had._

 _Did I ever thank you for sitting with me on the first ride to Hogwarts? No?_

 _Then, thank you Ron. You are a good friend, no, you are the best!_

 _Even when we've had our conflicts. I understand how hard it can be to be my friend, and I know you are still ashamed of your actions in our fourth year, but don't beat yourself up over it. There is nothing to forgive. We are all sometimes overcome by our negative emotions._

 _You were always overlooked as the youngest of the Weasley boys and don't think I did not hear the snide remarks of some of the other student._

 _But your parents love you, everyone can see it. You are not the leftover son, the son they only had because they still hoped and tried for a girl._

 _And you don't have to be like your brothers. Be yourself! I like your brothers, but my best friend's name is Ron, not Bill or Charlie._

 _You have talents none of your brothers have. You are a brilliant strategist, you only need to learn to use it more often outside of chess games. You are brave and kind, generous and honest, funny and protective._

 _Even if you don't have much, you willingly shared everything you had with me. The most precious of all – your family. I cannot put into words how much that meant to me. I love your family, thank you for inviting me to be part of it._

 _I know this sound like a goodbye and it is one, even if it is not meant forever, but I have to disappear, my tolerance for the wizarding world is at its end at the moment. Please don't hate me for it._

 _Love you,_

 _Harry._

Ron stared dumfounded at the letter, trying to make sense of everything written in there.

"What the…" he whispered.

His eyes scanned the letter again, trying to read in between the lines, to find the things Harry did not want to say and perhaps did not even meant to say.

He had the nagging feeling something was not right.

He felt a short spark of anger when he realized that Harry knew of the prophecy and had not told him before, but it vanished when he thought about when he'd learned the contents. And Dumbledore had known all along? Why had he not told them earlier? Why not the moment You-Know-Who had been back?

Had they had known about it, they could have understood what the weird dreams Harry had been having were. Perhaps they even might have realized that the Department of Mysteries had been a trap.

It certainly explained the obsession You-Know-Who had with the Department of Mysteries and Harry.

Why had Dumbledore kept such important information to himself? Had he not trusted the Order and Harry?

And even if You-Know-Who had learned about the prophecy, would that have been really so bad?

He was already obsessed with Harry, or he would never had taken such drastic measures to assure he had his blood for his resurrection. Would the contents of the prophecy really have made a difference? He thought not.

The information about You-Know-Who was horrifying. Really? Splitting his own soul to prevent himself from dying? Ron's stomach felt queasy from only thinking about it.

His eyes narrowed as he read over the vague explanation of the scar connection. Harry was definitely hiding something. Something important.

He read the letter again and the uncomfortable feeling grew.

Something was definitely not right.

No, something was most definitely _wrong_ , and he intended to find out what. So, he did the only logical thing in this kind of situation.

He wrote a letter to Hermione.

* * *

 **AN:** Thanks for reading, let me know what you think.

Many thanks for a-bit-of-madness for helping to improve my grammar and spelling.

First published: 19th of December 2018


	11. The trial

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or anything in the HP Universe.

 **AN:** Thank you all for reading, following, favouring and reviewing. Have some Oreos as a thank you!

I am completely addicted to Oreos at the moment. The book _Simon vs the Homo Sapiens Agenda_ and its movie adaption are at fault. Watching and reading this I somehow wish I had a coming out in school. Which I hadn't (for me it was always obvious that I am not hetero) but I was this nerdy antisocial girl with the I-am-not-interested-in-the-world-or-people-so-they-have-no-business-being-interested-in-me-attitude, nobody ever asked so I never told. The book and the movie make me wonder what could have happened.

I am terribly sorry that it took a while for me to update. I give _Yuri! on ICE_ and the brilliant work by _Heidi Cullinan_ the fault (both are equally addicting) _,_ I am trying to read all her books in the moment. My favourites are _Carry the Ocean, Antisocial_ and _Special Delivery_ , for now.

Actually, the trial scene was really hard to write for me, so it took a while.

But thankfully I have my wonderful and brilliant beta **a-bit-of-madness** , she helped a lot to finalize this and deserves all the hugs and Oreos of the world.

Additionally, I started the year with a mild concussion, which didn't make writing easier. But at least that means the New Year can only get better.

Have fun reading.

 **On with the story.**

* * *

 **Chapter 11: The trial**

Marvolo had nearly bit all the way through his cheek to prevent himself from smirking in satisfaction. So far, everything was going perfect. Madam Bones had given her opening statement, summarizing the story and the need for this emergency session and an immediate hearing in which he could present his case, as well as the Law of Haxby, on which the case was based. There was more than one shocked gasp when she revealed who he was. Angry, frightened and intrigued gazes were directed towards him, but the overall expression was shock and fear - and Marvolo bathed in it.

They thought Voldemort would be a monster, but here he sat as a mere man. He was not proud of what his alter ego had done, but it was still enjoyable, making all these oh-so-mighty old men sweat. Smug satisfaction filled him at the thought, and he bit his cheek again.

A vote would follow to decide if he would be given the opportunity to bring forth his case. Marvolo was quite sure if the vote was negative, they would try to throw him into Azkaban the minute the doors of the chamber opened and the Aurors could reach him, but the witches and wizards before him knew now who he had been, and he would not go without a fight. The name Lord Voldemort continued to evoke fear, even amongst the esteemed members of the Wizengamot.

There was a grand total of forty-five seats in the Wizengamot, twenty-eight of which were inherited and seventeen belonging to various department heads and elected members.

Originally, the inherited seats had been passed down through the old pure-blooded families, but overtime many of the families had gone extinct – their seats becoming dormant - or had been sold, gifted or merged by way of marriage.

Marvolo couldn't be completely sure, as some families did hold more than one or two seats, but it looked like the current Wizengamot was in full attendance,. which was sure to work in his favour - even if Dumbledore had the backing of most of the seventeen non-inherited seats and the seats of the Houses of the light side like the Longbottoms and Abbotts.

The moment he had stepped into the Wizengamot chamber, Marvolo had consented that the magic of these chambers could and would push him to accept the outcome, but he also knew the chamber's magic ensured that the Wizengamot members could not vote negatively if they had even the slightest suspicion that the accused was not the end there were only seven votes against an immediate trial, and Marvolo carefully memorized who had cast them. As soon as the vote was completed, Dumbledore closed the session and called for a short break to prepare for the hearing. It was glaringly obvious that those who had voted in favour of the trial saw this as a chance to throw Marvolo in Azkaban by legal means, but he didn't care in the least. Even if that were the outcome, it wouldn't make a difference, the Dementors were already in his corner.

"From the reactions so far, I don't think the trial will be a problem." Thaddaeus gestured to the wizards and witches still seated, parchments in hand. "Most of them are reading over the Law, since it's only been used once or twice in recorded history. It's incredibly simple though, they won't find any loopholes, and with the presented evidence, the probability of losing is almost zero." The solicitor smirked slightly at him.

"And even if they wanted to convict me out of pure malice, the magic of the Wizengamot chambers would prevent them from voting against their better judgment." Marvolo added.

With a loud bang, the doors to the chamber closed again as Dumbledore took his place and the Court Scribe, several Aurors and members of the Department of Mysteries - easily recognizable from the colour of their robes - took their seats. Marvolo didn't even try to suppress the excitement filling him.

* * *

Somewhere in the English countryside a snowy owl flew towards a small village in between green hills, her destination a house on the border of the village- or to be more precise, the impressive Greenhouse behind it.

A boy and girl sat on a bench in front of it, enjoying a cool drink in the afternoon heat. Pale eyes watched dreamily as the snowy owl flew towards them, landing in the girl's lap. "What is Hedwig doing here?" The boy asked, confused.

The girl hummed and gently caressed the owl, which clacked with her beak and extended the leg with the letters to them.

"Oh, see she has letters for us." The girl gently removed them. "Do you want to rest here, or do you already have to leave to bring the letter to Hermione?" She gestured to the last letter bound to the bird's leg.

Hedwig ruffled her feathers and nipped at her finger.

The girl nodded. "I understand. You're right, of course, it is best that you return to Harry as fast as possible. Give him a kiss from me." The girl cradled Hedwig in her arms for a moment, before she lifted her to take flight. With a hoot of farewell, the owl was on her journey again.

The boy started to open the letter and read, but was stopped by the girl, who placed her hand above his holding the parchment.

"Let's get inside. We need a cup of tea to read these. I think it will be highly distressing. I fear Wrackspurts are making Harry's brain extra fuzzy at the moment."

The boy nodded and made his way to the house while the girl followed him, only to stop before she stepped inside. She looked after the white speck, rapidly growing smaller and sighed. "Harry, remember, things we lose always come back to us in the end. And sometimes they come back in the most unexpected ways or in the form of the most unexpected persons."

With a last glance at the sky Luna turned around and followed Neville inside.

* * *

After Dumbledore had opened the trial officially, Madam Bones, as the Head of the DMLE started reading out the long list of Lord Voldemort's crimes. The List sounded like they simply had written down all possible crimes they could think of: mass-murder, terrorism, the use of the Unforgivables, torture, treason, breach of the Statute of Secrecy, kidnapping, imprisonment, the use of Dark Arts… it was rather impressive.

Once the reading had been completed, Thaddaeus had given the defence's opening plea and presented the pensive memories as evidence. A specialist from the Department of Mysteries had inspected them and declared them to be genuine and untampered with.

Marvolo had trouble containing his laughter as he observed Dumbledore, after he and the rest of the Wizengamot had watched his ´memories`. Most of the witches and wizard before him were not hard to read, at least not for him. Before seeing the memories, they had looked either negative or passive, some with the typical air of condescension of the old pureblood families. Now, they certainly looked suspicious, but also horrified by what they had seen. More and more faces had intrigued expressions and - he scoffed - some even held something akin to pity.

He did not like that, never had, but it would play in his favour.

The old man though, was definitely suspicious of the authenticity of the memories, judging by the short glance he sent in Marvolo's direction. But as they had been accepted as evidence and declared untampered, he could not voice any of his suspicion. He would look foolish and risk the rest of the court declaring him compromised.

Next, they had presented the medical report from Healer Farley. The name brought with it a rush of whispers - it seemed her reputation was well known in the Wizengamot. As they read the findings of his mental, magical and physical health examinations, more and more of the witches and wizards before him changed their negative and passive demeanour.

Not even Dumbledore could put aside these findings completely. As he stared at Marvolo with an expression of bewilderment and confliction, it seemed his old professor was not sure anymore if what he had believed to know previously still was true, if perhaps he had misjudged him all these years.

The mirth rose in Marvolo again and he bit his cheek hard enough to taste blood.

After looking through the evidence, Thaddaeus had presented his case in more detail, explained – again - why he did fall under the Law of Haxby and why he was also not guilty of the crimes Lord Voldemort had committed since he had been resurrected, pleading not guilty for most of the crimes.

The next part was where Marvolo would have all the fun.

"The accused has consented to the use of Veritaserum in the interrogation if the court wishes to do so."

The astonished whispers rose with Madam Bones' statement. It was a bold move. Veritaserum normally was not used in a hearing, because it's effect could be countered by different methods, Occlumency amongst them. It was regarded as unreliable, especially because the drinker only stated the truth as he believed it to be, Therefore, it was a risk to use it in court.

A ward went up between Marvolo and the Wizengamot members, and he watched them discuss the matter. Obviously, there were two factions, the ones who wanted to use the potion and the ones who didn't. He was quite sure to which group Dumbledore belonged, but then the old man knew he was proficient in the mind arts and therefore the possibility for him to counter the potion was high. Marvolo watched in amusement as the discussion got heated. It took a while for the matter to be settled but when he was addressed again, he already suspected what the result would be.

"The Wizengamot has decided against the use of Veritaserum. It will be noted that the accused had suggested the use on his own and was willing to take it." Madam Bones stated finally and Marvolo had to hide his smirk. He knew they would decide not to use the potion if Dumbledore could prevent it. Now the old man watched him, trying to dissect if he had wanted to be interrogated with Veritaserum or not. Marvolo could see the frustration growing in Dumbledore's eyes, the infamous twinkle entirely absent for quite a while now.

Madam Bones opened the interrogation, reminding Marvolo that the magic of the Wizengamot chambers would push him to speak the truth, if he lied outright the magic would notify the court. It was in no way a total compulsion, though. He could push the magical pressure away with a little bit of concentration and force of will, and easily lie by omission, Finally, the Chief Warlock addressed Marvolo himself.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle you were born on the 31st of December in London, your mother was the witch Merope Gaunt and your father a muggle named Tom Riddle. Is that correct?"

"Yes." Marvolo knew exactly where Dumbledore wanted to go with this kind of opening question. It would be public knowledge after the hearing that he was a half-blood, and the old man certainly hoped it would damage his standing with his old pure-blood followers.

"You grew up in a Muggle orphanage in London and knew nothing of the magical world before you started Hogwarts when you reached eleven. Is this true?"

"Yes." Marvolo was curious if the Chief Warlock would ask after his fifth year in Hogwarts and the opening of the chamber of secrets, but Dumbledore mostly asked about his muggle upbringing, and then about his time after Hogwarts. With every question Marvolo answered in a way that left him looking like a victim, Dumbledore grew more and more frustrated.

"Mr Riddle, you can't deny that you are Lord Voldemort and the crimes committed in his name, were either done by yourself or his followers." Dumbledore's tone became brisk.

Marvolo leaned back in his chair, resting his hands in his lap. "No, I can't deny that this body was Lord Voldemort, but I don't think of myself as that anymore. Since regaining my sanity, I think of Lord Voldemort as a separate entity who occupied my body, and I am horrified by the crimes committed in his name."

On and on it went, and Marvolo watched with amusement how Dumbledore tried to trap him, asking the same things again and again in different ways – about his usage of Dark Magic and being Lord Voldemort. He even tried to pin him down with his views on Muggles and Muggle-borns - till even his fellow Wizengamot members threw him irritated glances.

The mirth grew, till his face hurt in the attempt to not to smirk in satisfaction. The interrogation had gone perfectly for him and now he watched the debate of the Wizengamot behind silencing charms. It was obvious that more than one member was not happy with the old man and had no problem with making their opinion vocal. Beside him Thaddaeus sat seemingly unfaced by the mayhem they could only see - by now the old Lord Greengrass was screaming at Dumbledore - but the corner of his mouth was twitching.

Yes, it had went perfectly and Marvolo already knew he had won, by the expression Dumbledore wore he knew it too.

* * *

The afternoon had been relaxing for Severus, but he knew it wouldn't last long. It was only moments after he had left Malfoy Manor and arrived in his own living room, that the floo flared up behind him and the voice of the Headmaster called out.

"Severus, please come through immediately." Not even an explanation what he wanted. Severus sneered, pushing his irritation at the Headmaster to the back of his mind.

He knew already what the man wanted to talk about. Lord Nott had sent a house-elf to inform them how the trial went and moments later Narcissa had returned and they had watched the parts of it in the Malfoy family pensieve. Their Lord had other important matters to settle and was therefore still in the Ministry, one of them claiming the Slytherin Lordship and changing his name legally.

Steeling himself and carefully settling his face in a neutral mask, the Potions master called out the Headmaster's office and stepped through.

"Sit Severus, lemon drop?" Albus gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk and took one of the sweets himself.

"No, thank you. I presume you wanted to talk about whatever the Wizengamot business was?"

Albus sighed. "Yes, Severus. The emergency session was followed by a trial, which was highly disconcerting." He paused, and the weariness disappeared from his expression. There was the leader of the Order of the Phoenix and the powerful wizard again, Severus knew so well. It was unfortunate that they would be standing on opposite sides, now that the dark fraction had their leader back, but it hopefully would only be in the political battleground not an actual one.

It was not that Severus didn't respect the Headmaster, quite the contrary really. Even when Albus had used his guilt and shame against him, pressuring him into an oath to protect Lily's child, and manipulated him in the direction he wanted, Severus had still respected him. He resented the orders and the obvious manipulations and was completely annoyed by the grandfatherly act - and he feared that most of the time it wasn't even an act - but he still respected the Headmaster.

"It seems Harry did not lie or exaggerate in his letter. Lord Voldemort appeared today before the Wizengamot, demanding a trial. He looks completely human again, used his birth name and had found some obscure, old law which enabled him to get an acquittal from his crimes."

Severus hid his satisfied smirk behind a cough which Albus luckily read as shock. He looked gravely at the black-haired man and nodded.

"Yes, Tom Marvolo Riddle was declared innocent of the crimes Lord Voldemort committed before he lost his body and while being a bodiless spirit, based on the evidence that he was insane and therefore not completely responsible for the crimes done since his rebirth. He has to pay a heavy fine and pay all the repair costs needed for the Ministry. Additionally, he has to present himself at the DMLE in intervals of three months to check his wand for the usage of Dark spells, which he is forbidden to perform, and twice a year for a check-up on his mental and magical health at St Mungo's."

Hearing it from Albus himself made the victory of his Lord even more impressive, and once again Severus found himself biting back a smirk.

"Severus, I fear for Harry," he Headmaster continued. "I don't believe that Tom has really changed, even if he presented himself today as the victim, and I don't think that he will leave Harry alone, especially now that he only has Nagini and the boy left as his Horcruxes. A sane Tom Riddle is harder to handle and predict than an insane Lord Voldemort." The frustration was written all over Albus face.

"What do you suggest, Headmaster?" Severus asked coolly.

"I will call an Order Meeting for tomorrow morning. I am… unsure how to proceed as the whole situation is highly unpredictable and we don't have all the facts. Please, Severus see if you can gather more information and come directly to me after he finally called for you."

"Certainly, Headmaster." Severus stood and – before stepping into the fireplace – looked shortly at Albus. He had never seen him look so old and weary.

* * *

The first surprise of the day had been Luna knocking in the early hours of the morning on their door. His Gran had not been pleased to have an unannounced guest at first, but Luna had charmed her during breakfast. Or Gran had been too flabbergasted by the blond girl who had wandered into the dining room, greeted her and then talked about Nargles and Wrackspurts and the Rotfang conspiracy in the Ministry while buttering her toast, to say something.

Neville had only smiled and listened. He liked Luna, she was a good friend. She never treated him different because he was quiet and loved plants more than people, or because he wasn't as powerful as people thought he should be as the son of Alice and Frank Longbottom. And she was a hell of a fighter, holding her own during their fight in the Department of Mystery.

His thoughts turned towards the events like they had so many times in the last weeks. He had seen Lestrange that day. He had never thought he could hate someone as much as he hated her, and he was sure his boggart wouldn't be Snape anymore if he ever encountered one again. Her maniacal laugh, her taunts, her breath on the back of his head as she held him at wandpoint to threaten Harry...

Harry… who had lost his godfather because of Lestrange that day. Not that Neville had known that it had been Sirius Black, his godfather, who had fallen through the veil at that time. Luna had told him, afterwards. She had known. She was good at that- knowing stuff without you telling her.

Neville worried about Harry. He hadn't looked like he was okay when he had seen him last at the Hogwarts express. And why should he? He had lost his godfather, had fought Voldemort and his Death Eaters - again.

Harry, who had believed in him. Taught him defence the last year, showed him that he was better than he himself thought. Who had trusted him enough to take him with him to the Ministry. Harry who never showed people how much he was truly hurting, who sometimes preferred the quiet, like Neville. Who had many people he liked, but only a few he really called friends, only a few he really let in.

Neville knew people underestimated him because he was quiet. They often forgot he was there, but Neville was good at listening and observing. People were harder to understand than plants, but if you had the time to observe them undisturbed, they were not that hard to figure out. That was how he knew Harry was not happy at his relatives, he had seen the signs. He knew that for Harry, his godfather was not only a link to his dead parents, but also the hope for a real family, something he needed to believe he could have.

Neville understood this perhaps better than anyone. Not that he didn't love his Gran, but she was his grandmother, not his mother. As much as she loved him - and he knew she did behind her sometimes strict and cold exterior - it was not the same.

But it didn't look like Harry had even someone like Gran now that Sirius Black was dead. And wasn't that a devastating thought? The only one Harry Potter had, had been an escaped and – at least he thought so – innocent convict. As much as Ron and his family thought of Harry as being one of them, he was not, and Neville was sure that Harry never really forgot it.

So, since coming back for the summer holidays, Neville worried. How was Harry fairing? Should he write him a letter to remind him he had people who were concerned for him?

Till now he hadn't had the courage to write a letter. He had never written Harry, they hadn't been really close friends in their first four years at Hogwarts, would it be too much?

But now, now the second surprise of the day lay before him on the table. No, he hadn't written a letter to Harry, Harry had written one to him.

Beside him, Luna opened her letter and started reading,and with shaking hands, Neville opened his own. What would Harry have to tell him?

 _Hi Neville_

 _I know I've never written you before, but I wanted to tell you a few things._

 _You're a good friend and a brave Gryffindor. Never let someone else tell you differently. Already in first year you showed what real Gryffindor bravery is all about. It is not about not fearing something, no, it is about standing up to your fears. Taking action despite them._

 _Think back to third year. Yes, we all stood before our Boggart in class, but most of our year-mates did it once. You did it every day. Every day you went to Potion's class. Every day you faced your fear for five years now._

 _That is true Gryffindor bravery, and I am not sure if I could do it._

 _I always run headfirst into situation without even thinking about fearing something. That's not bravery, it's stupidity and impulsiveness, and it often led to horrendous consequences._

 _I count myself lucky to call you my friend. You stood by my side this whole horrible year and I can't tell you how much it meant to me._

 _At the Ministry you truly showed what you are made off. Thank you for having my back._

 _Did you know that there was a prophecy about a baby meant to be the downfall of Voldemort? This prophecy fitted two babies, you and me. Voldemort chose me._

 _Since I know the content, I think about 'what if he had chosen Neville?'_

 _Not that I wish that he would have chosen you, I don't wish my fate on anyone, not even Malfoy._

 _But it makes you think. Why me? Because I am a half-blood, like he is?_

 _And more than often I think, you would be a better 'Chosen One'._

 _You don't run into situations without thinking. You are far kinder than me. You don't scare your friends with you temper, and you are by far a better friend._

 _But Voldemort choose me. And I did what the prophecy demanded. Theoretically Voldemort is no more. If you want to know more, talk to Hermione or Ron, or Luna, even if I didn't tell her details you know she knows, however she manages it._

 _Neville, you are a great wizard, stay as you are, kind and brave._

 _Yours_

 _Harry._

Neville blinked… and blinked again, startled to discover that he had tears in his eyes. The thoughts in his head were chaotic.

A prophecy? _Him_ a possible 'chosen one'? That would have ended in a catastrophe.

Harry… brave, stubborn, selfless Harry thought _he_ would make a better hero? A mirthless laugh escaped him.

Harry… who thought him brave, a true Gryffindor, a great wizard, a better friend.

Worry churned his stomach. Why did it sound like a Goodbye forever?

A small hand grabbed his own and he blinked away the tears, looking into big pale eyes. Luna was smiling reassuring at him. "Everything will be fine. Different, changed – yes – but fine. This isn't a goodbye. Harry will be fine."

And Neville believed her.

* * *

Hermione Granger led out a tired huff as she stepped into her room, letting the shopping bags fall out of her hands and herself fall on the bed. Shopping with her Mum always resembled more a marathon than a stroll, especially because she had not been allowed to spend most of their time in the city in the bookstore. But for a short time, she had been able to forget all the things that troubled her, and there were a lot.

Not only was she waiting for her results in the O.W.L. examinations, no funny enough these were the last of the things she worried over since coming home from Hogwarts.

Not even the events at the Ministry of Magic were laying heavily on her mind. No, it was one of her best friends, Harry, who she thought over most of the time.

He had been so closed off after the Ministry. She did understand why, he had lost his Godfather and if she knew him even half as well as she thought, Harry had convinced himself that it was in part his fault. Yes, he had acted recklessly and impulsive, but he had acted based on the limited knowledge they had at that time, and they had trusted Harry's instincts. They had rescued them more than once in the last years at Hogwarts.

She knew her best friend was hurting, had heard about his explosion in the Headmaster's office and knew it hadn't helped, but something else had transpired there. She was sure Dumbledore had told Harry something very important and that it weighed heavily on him, but every attempt she made to coax him to talk to her had failed.

And something had happened at the Ministry besides the loss of Sirius. She knew Harry and the Headmaster had encountered Voldemort again, she hadn't seen him herself, had been unconscious and didn't know what Harry had endured exactly, but she knew that something in him had changed.

Harry had always been reserved, had always held his thoughts and feelings deep inside of him - and she felt privileged to be one of the few people he let in - but she had the suspicion not even Ron and she were allowed to see everything.

And then there was the matter of the Dursleys. Harry had never made a secret of his disdain for his relatives, and some of the things he had said over the years and Hermione's own observations made her highly suspicious that he friend did not tell them what really was going on behind the doors of 4 Privet Drive. It frustrated her to no end. She wanted to help him, but when she had tried to talk with Professor McGonagall or Professor Dumbledore, both had made it clear that it was nothing. Surely not every family got along, but they were still his family, everything was fine, and it would do her no good to ponder on it. They hadn't taken her serious.

She hated it when she was not taken seriously, as if being a child somehow made her unobservant or stupid.

She had thought about talking with her parents about some of the things that worried her, but they would try to involve the authorities – of that she was sure – and she didn't know if that was a good idea, because it would be the muggle ones, not wizarding.

And now, Harry was alone in that house trying to handle the death of his godfather, one of the last links to his parents. She feared for her friend - and that didn't even take into account how the magical world talked about him now.

Hermione shook her head and pushed the locks of her bushy brown hair which had fallen into her face behind her ears in frustration. She felt so helpless.

"Hermione, there are letters for you!" Her mother's voice drifted up from downstairs.

"Coming, Mum."

Stretching she got up and walked into the kitchen, where her mother had put on the teakettle.

"They are on the counter, sweetie. Do you want a cup?"

"Yes, please." Hermione answered absentmindedly, picking up the two envelopes addressed to her. She frowned as she recognized not just Ron's messy handwriting, but Harry's chicken scrawl as well. Ron's letter she had expected, they had plans for her to stay at the Burrow with his family in August, and he had said something about Professor Dumbledore arranging for Harry to come too, in his last letter.

But the one from Harry? She hadn't really heard from him since the end of the school year. As always Professor Dumbledore had convinced them that it was not safe enough. Not for the first time, this summer Hermione questioned if she should go against his orders. But now it seemed that Harry had beaten her to it.

Gnawing on her lower lip in worry she set the letter from Harry aside and opened the one from Ron first. Somehow, she knew that whatever Ron had written was linked to Harry's letter.

 _Hermione_

 _Harry has written to me. His letter is confusing and disturbing, and I am sure there is more going on that he is saying. Do you think your parents will let you come to the Burrow earlier?_

 _I'm concerned for Harry._

 _He has told me that Dumbledore told him the prophecy and he had to kill You-Know-Who or be killed himself. And he talked about somehow fulfilling it while not being a killer. I think it's better if you read it yourself. I think you will get a letter from him too._

 _I hope you can come earlier, I have a really bad feeling about this._

 _Ron_

It was short, confusing and messier than normal. The prophecy? Harry needed to kill or be killed? Her stomach turned at the thought. But that couldn't be everything. That certainly was not why Ron was troubled, and that he was, was obvious from the short letter.

But she did understand the gist of it and her eyes wandered to the other envelope resting on the table before her.

"What did your friend write?" Her mother's voice cut through her thoughts while setting a cup of steaming tea in front of her.

"Ron is asking if I can come to the Burrow earlier than originally planned. He's worried about Harry. He doesn't make much sense, but I didn't read Harry's letter yet." Hermione looked at her mother shortly and picked up Harry's letter.

"Sweetie, we had some plans for next week, but if it is important then we can cancel them, and you can go earlier. We don't understand much of your magical world, but friends are important in _every_ world. You told us that Harry went through a lot of traumatizing events and he is your friend. We can't do much, but your father and I, we want to help. If letting you stay with your friends for the rest of the summer is helpful, then so be it. Read his letter, perhaps you'll have a better idea what is going afterwards." Her mother stroked her hair.

"Thanks Mum." Hermione got up from her chair and gave her a short hug, before settling down again. With a deep breath she opened the letter and began to read.

* * *

 **AN:** Thanks for reading, let me know what you think.

So that's it. Finally the trial is done.

Many thanks for a-bit-of-madness for helping to improve my grammar and spelling.

First published: 16th of January 2019


	12. Hermione

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or anything in the HP Universe.

 **AN:** Thanks to all of you who followed, favoured and reviewed. Your support means a lot to me, and your reviews made me smile all the time.

Many many thanks and hugs to my wonderful and brilliant beta **a-bit-of-madness**.

Have fun reading.

 **On with the story.**

* * *

 **Chapter 12: Hermione**

 _Dear Hermione_

 _To write this letter to you, to try to explain what is happening, is one of the scariest things I have ever done._

 _Where should I start? What can I tell? Because I can't give you all the details, some I don't know, some I don't understand, and some I don't want to tell._

 _Let's start with the fact, that Dumbledore has hidden the truth of why Voldemort killed my parents. The prophecy Voldy wanted from the Department of Mysteries was about us -_ him and me _._

 _According to it, I am the only one who can defeat him. No one can live while the other survives… that's literary._

 _Dumbledore told me after he brought me back from the Ministry. Right after I lost Sirius, right after I somehow managed to throw out Voldy as he tried to possess me._

 _I was so lost afterwards, numb and afraid._ _I didn't know how to tell you. How could I? How could I explain to you that my days were numbered? I have never been under the illusions that I somehow could beat Voldemort. He is so much more powerful than me, has so much more experience and knowledge._

 _I always figured Dumbledore had a plan, even if I didn't understand it, I always believed in him. And then he tells me he believes my special power, the one with which I'm to defeat the darkest wizard of our time, is love._

 _LOVE?!_

 _How in the name of Merlin could love help me defeat Voldy? But at that point I still believed in Dumbledore, believed he had a plan that I just didn't understand._

 _The isolation here at the Dursleys gave me a lot of time to think, though, and now I realize that I was wrong._

 _I have to confess, I did something incredible dangerous and foolish. Don't be angry with me, Hermione. Everything played out nicely in the end._

 _I told you Voldy tried to possess me in the Ministry and you remember that he used our unusual connection a lot the last school year. So I decided to use it too. I went into his head, it wasn't even hard to do. I learned so much about him, about our connection through my scar. Yes, I found out what the connection actually is._

 _Voldemort had built himself a safe net to prevent his own death, my scar is - accidentally - part of it._

 _And now comes the part where you will certainly want to scream at me. I destroyed his safe net, not to defeat him – which would mean kill him – no! No, I made him_ sane _again._

 _The safety net he had built was made out of parts of his soul that were stored in objects, which led to his insanity and dehumanization. I found a way to destroy these objects and give the soul shards back. Now I only have to sever the connection between my scar and him. Then only Nagini is left, who carries a soul piece. If Tom Riddle is a threat to the wizarding world you know what to do._

 _The fact that I destroyed Lord Voldemort is hopefully enough for the prophecy. Tom Riddle lives, but the insane dark wizard does not. Maybe it was foolish - who even knows what a sane Voldemort might do - but I had to do it._

 _Dumbledore always talks about choices, and that the easiest ones are not always the right ones. I decided to give Tom Riddle another choice. A chance he never had been given, and it was certainly not the easy choice, but everyone deserves second chances._

 _But even if it is enough for the prophecy, the wizarding world, Dumbledore and Riddle will never leave me alone. They will demand more, they always do. Or they will condemn me._

 _I am tired, Hermione. So tired of being me._

 _I didn't know my name till I went to primary school. I was so happy to learn that I had one then, but in the last years, I have learned to hate the name_ Harry Potter.

 _I don't have the strength anymore to be me._

 _I made a difficult decision, now that my role is finished. I'm going to take a break from being Harry Potter._

 _I will miss you, Hermione. You are the sister I never had. Without you, Ron and I would never had survived our first year. You were always there for me, even when nobody else believed me. I hope you know how much that meant to me._

 _I could always count on you, and I was only as brave as I was because I knew I had you to catch me if I fell._

 _You are the brightest witch of our generation, brilliant, hard-working, kind-hearted and brave. You deserve the world, take it by storm. Never let someone tell you something different._

 _But you are also quite scary, I will forever remember Malfoy's face when you punched him. I never wanted to make you angry at me, but I know after this letter you certainly will be and for this, I am sorry._

 _I know that I am being frustratingly vague, but I have the greatest respect for your intelligence. If you knew my plan, you certainly would have interfered and convinced me not to do it, and I fear that I would relent._

 _I have to do this though. Please don't hate me for disappearing. I'm tired, tired of the expectations of the wizarding world. I need a break. I know this sounds like a goodbye, but no goodbyes are forever._

 _I love you._

 _Harry_

For a moment Hermione only stared at the parchment she was gripping in her hands. Her normally analytical mind was in chaos and the letters blurred in front of her eyes. A hand on her shoulder startled her back into reality.

"Hermione? Is everything alright?"

She looked up to see her mother standing by her side, her expression concerned.

Hermione's throat was too dry. Picking up the teacup her mother had placed beside her, she took a gulp. "No. Ron is right to worry about Harry. This," she gestured at the parchment, "is a letter from Harry. The content… it worries me. Something is definitely not right. But not only the content is disturbing, the way it is written… Mum I don't know what to do." She slid the parchment to her mother, who sat beside her and started reading.

"He is deliberately vague, and I know – I feel it – he plans to do something incredibly stupid because he thinks he has to. That's Harry, if an idea got stuck in his head it is hard to convince him not to do it, even at the cost of his own wellbeing. He is too impulsive and reckless, he doesn't always think everything through. And now he is stuck at the Dursleys, with nobody who gives a damn about him and after he had lost his godfather, he is definitely not fine. He wasn't fine when we got back from Hogwarts." She knew she was rambling, but she couldn't stop, there were just too many things happening in her head

"He tried to hide it, but I know my best friend. He was grieving and showed signs of depression. Who knows what the isolation did to him. Mum, what can I do, he is my best friend! He needs me and I don't know what I can do!" Hermione clenched her fists in frustration and helplessness.

Her mother placed the parchment aside and gently loosened her fists.

"You are an intelligent girl, Hermione. Whatever it is, you will figure it out and we will help you. I do understand your concerns; the overall tone of the letter doesn't promise something good. The moment your father comes home, we will drive you to Ron's and stay and talk with his parents about what we can do. Perhaps there is something Harry revealed in his letter to Ron that he didn't do in yours. Till then, pack what you need and read the letter again, perhaps after calming down some things will make more sense. Sometimes the meanings hidden between the lines reveal much more than the actual words."

Hermione nodded, picked the parchment up and got up to walk out of the kitchen, her mother's voice stopping her in her tracks.

"Didn't you say Harry is living with his relatives. Are they magical?"

She turned around. "No, they are not magical. Why?"

"Do you know where they are living? Perhaps you could find out their address or telephone number and call?"

Hermione's head whipped around to stare at her mother wide eyed. "Mum, you are a genius."

Her mother blinked at her in surprise, but Hermione was already hurrying out of the kitchen, taking the stairs two steps a time. How could she have forgotten that Harry had given her the Dursleys telephone number years ago? She rummaged in her desk drawer, till she found the small strip of parchment with a few numbers scribbled on in Harry's familiar handwriting. Sighing in relief that she hadn't thrown it away, she rushed back down the stairs.

Back in the kitchen she picked up the telephone, punched in the numbers and waited, biting her fingernails.

It rang… and rang… and rang…

But nobody was picking up. Trepidation settled into her stomach.

Yes, it could be that they all went out for a family afternoon or perhaps even a holiday, but she knew that they never would take Harry with them. He never had said it outright, but he had mentioned enough for her to know that the Dursleys didn't count Harry as family and vice versa. And somehow, she didn't see the Dursleys changing suddenly.

The dial tone still ringing in her ear, Hermione considered her next steps. Her mind finally calming down, the initial confusion and panic disappeared now that her mind had a goal again. This was no different than the mysteries they had solved at Hogwarts and she was good at that.

So, what was next? Gathering intelligence.

She looked at the crumbled letter she still held in her hand. She would pack and read the letter again, as her mother suggested. Her father would be back in less than an hour. It would take them a few hours to reach the Burrow but once she was there, she could talk with Ron, let him read her letter and read his letter. She would go from there.

From the Burrow they could even fire call Professor Dumbledore if needed. Talk with him about what Harry meant with the safe net he had mentioned in his letter, talk about the prophecy.

Hermione had always had the greatest respect for Professor Dumbledore, but now a hard and acidic feeling settled into her stomach. How could the Headmaster think it was a good idea to tell a traumatized teenager who had lost his father-figure that he had to kill or be killed?

Knowing that anger would not help her or Harry, she sighed and replaced the handset.

But the unanswered dial tone still rang in her ear for a long time.

* * *

Harry could hear the telephone ringing down in the kitchen and was wondering who would call. Most of the Dursleys acquaintances certainly knew they were away for a few days.

For a brief moment he considered breaking out of his room and answering the call, it would be nice to hear a human voice beside his own, even if it was only a salesperson, but he discarded the idea immediately. First, he wasn't even sure if he would manage breaking out, the Dursleys had locked all the locks on his door; second, the call was definitely not for him. Who would even call him?

Then he remembered that he had given Ron and Hermione the telephone number for Privet Drive ages ago. Save the one disastrous try from Ron in the summer after second year they never had tried to reach him that way.

His heart ached to hear his friends' voices, but no, it couldn't be one of them, and it was better that way. He knew his conviction would waver if he had the chance to talk to them, but the thought that perhaps one of his friends tried to reach him after reading their letters made his throat constrict.

He turned around on his bed, put the pillow over his head and tried to sleep, despite the bright afternoon sun shining through the window. He was so tired of everything.

The telephone rang for a long time.

* * *

Ron had been nervous since he had sent the letter to Hermione. He couldn't sit still, so he had helped his mother in the house and the garden without complain. He had gotten a few strange glances from Mrs Weasley and Ginny because of it, but he couldn't care less.

The air felt charged, like before a huge thunderstorm. The moments before Harry had returned from the maze during the third task of the Triwizard Tournament or when they had wandered down the dark halls of the Department of Mystery had felt similar.

Something was going to happen, something big, and it would change everything.

He may not have the analytical, logical intelligence Hermione possessed or the instinctual, intuitive intelligence Harry had, but he was not stupid. He practically could see the chess pieces moving, but he couldn't see the whole board and therefore nothing made sense so far. He wasn't even sure anymore who were players, who were pieces, and which moves had been made.

What was the purpose of those letters?

What did change now that Lord Voldemort was gone? And how would the new player Tom Riddle behave?

The vagueness of Harry's letter drove him crazy.

And there was still the lingering unease when he thought how Harry had described the connection between him and Riddle. He was definitely missing parts of the puzzle and it unnerved him and made him angry. Angry that Harry, his best friend, was planning something which he was hiding from him; and it worried him immensely. If Harry felt the need to not tell him, he planned something extraordinary stupid and dangerous, which – in case of Harry – normally meant that his life was in danger.

Ron knew Harry had problems with trusting people - he had learned that lesson in fourth year, and he knew how difficult it was to get his trust back.

That he now decided to take action without talking with someone about it, not trusting others to understand and accept his plan, was a bad sign.

Hopefully Hermione had gotten his letter and was on her way.

Walking nervous circles in his bedroom Ron nearly didn't hear his mother's voice.

"Ron, your father is here, and you brothers will arrive shortly. Come down please." Her voice sounded strange, like she tried to conceal a waver or shaking in her inflexion.

Frowning, Ron walked down the stairs into the kitchen, where his father was sitting at the table nursing a cup of tea, looking tired, anxious and stricken all at once.

"Dad? What happened?" Nobody who had seen his father's expression could deny that something definitely had occurred.

Mr Weasley shook his head and rubbed his eyes with a sigh. "Not now Ron, I don't want to tell it more than once. Let's wait till your brothers are here." His voice was calm despite his obvious state of shock.

As if they had heard him, the floo flared and Fred, or was it George? – Ron never had managed to tell them apart when they were not both in the same room – stepped out, directly followed by his twin a few seconds later.

Before somebody could even say hello there was a knock on the door and Bill stepped inside, greeting their father with a nod and their mother with a kiss on the cheek, he sat down looked around the room.

"I can guess what this is about – " He began but Mrs Weasley held up her hand to interrupt him.

"Everyone sit down, we will wait till Charlie is here. George could you please go outside and call for Ginny? She should be at the pond." She placed several teacups and a teapot on the table. Ron registered that she didn't say anything about Percy, despite that she had insisted to write him.

George left the kitchen shortly and returned only moments later with Ginny, who looked around the room in surprise and alarm. Ron realized with sadness that his little sister immediately jumped to the conclusion that something had happened. The war – even if it hadn't broken out on a large scale for now – had changed her too.

Bill cleared his throat. "So, Charlie is also coming from Romania?"

Mrs Weasley nodded. "Yes, he had planned to come in two days to spend at least two weeks of the summer holidays with us. Your father managed to make an international floo call and asked him if he was available earlier. A colleague of his was kind enough to exchange Portkeys with him. He should arrive shortly."

Nobody actually asked why everyone should gather today, but Ron saw the glances his parents exchanged, and knew it wasn't only about the letters. He recalled the content of Harry's letter. He had given You-Know-Who his sanity back and Ron had the suspicion it was linked to whatever had rattled his parents.

The door opened and the unmistakable short and stocky form of Charlie entered the kitchen. Once he greeted Mr and Mrs Weasley and hugged each of his siblings, the exception Bill, who got a friendly slap on the back, he sat down. Silence hung over the kitchen for a brief moment.

"So, what's up?" Fred asked, looking between his parents and Bill.

Mr Weasley sighed, visibly pulled himself up and started explaining in a flat, emotionless tone. "Today an emergency Wizengamot meeting had been called during which an old law was used to pardon a wizard who had lost his body once and was brought back a year ago. He was found innocent of the crimes which were done before his resurrection and parts of the crimes since he got his body back, due to insanity, which he claimed to have been for the last decades because of an accident. He claims he only regained his mind a short while ago. That's the official statement the Ministry staff members were given late this afternoon. The wizard's name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, formally known as… Lord Voldemort." He stumbled shortly over the last name.

Silence followed his words. Most of the Weasley's looked stunned, Ginny was definitely horrified while Bill had a grim expression. Ron sighed audibly and closed his eyes, it seemed whatever reckless stunt Harry had tried had been... successful. _Riddle_ was now official innocent and claimed to be sane again, whatever that meant. Not that Ron had doubts that whatever scheme Harry had thought of would have been successful, they always were successful in one way or the other.

When he opened his eyes again, he was met with the surprised looks of his family. His reaction had not been overlooked.

"Ron?" His mother was looking at him expectantly, demanding an explanation.

He sighed again and scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "I did read my letter already. To make it short, Harry told me that he found a way to destroy Lord… Voldemort by rebuilding his sanity." He wasn't sure what Harry wanted his parents to know, should he mention the prophecy? The safety net? The connection via his scar? As he didn't know what Harry had written in their letters, he decided against it.

"Ron! I told you that we would read them all together. What is this about Harry returning You-Know-Who's sanity?" Mrs Weasley voice rose with every word and only the reassuring hand of her husband's hand on her arm kept her from standing up.

"I –" Ron started but George interrupted him. "Wait! What is this about letters?"

Mrs Weasley sighed and reached into the pocket of the apron she was wearing, producing the pile of letters.

"Ron and I found these around lunchtime. They are all from Harry, one for each of us. As this goes against every typical behaviour of Harry, I decided it would be better we read them all together, in case he did hide something in them, and we would miss the message if we only know the content of one letter. Your father agreed with me, but it seems Ron stole his when I was not looking and read it already." She looked at him in disappointment briefly.

Everyone else was staring at the pile on the table.

Mr Weasley ran a tired hand over his face, then looked at his family with a determined expression. "It seems Harry had something to do with the happenings today at the Wizengamot, even if indirectly. If he really brought back Y… _Riddle's_ sanity, he certainly had his reasons and believed it to be the best way to proceed, but as we don't know what exactly transpired in the Wizengamot and how Harry is involved it is best we read these letters now. Tomorrow morning Professor Dumbledore called an Order meeting, and as every one of you got a letter, you will all attend." He stopped his wife before she could open her mouth completely. "Yes, Molly, everyone. Something tells me that the letters and the appearance of Riddle today are only the beginning. Now, I don't demand you hand over the letter addressed to you for others to read, but I want you to share with us the contents."

It looked like Mrs Weasley wanted to protest and demand that she got to read all the letters, but her husband's expression stopped her again. "The letters are addressed to every one of us, exclusively, therefore they are private. Now, before we read the letters. Bill? You also knew what had happened today?" He addressed the oldest of the Ron's brothers.

"Not exactly what had happened at the Wizengamot, but I was at Gringotts when a high priority client came in. I heard enough to know that the Slytherin Lordship was successfully claimed at the Ministry shortly before, and the client – _Lord Slytherin_ – wanted to visit his newly inherited vaults. I got a glimpse of him, and from afar he looked like a man in his mid-thirties, perhaps forty, but not older. As we only know of one descendant of Salazar Slytherin, I assumed it had something to do with the rumours of the Wizengamot meeting. How however You-Know-Who could have legally claimed the Lordship I didn't know. I already got the information that we have an Order meeting tomorrow and would have mentioned it then." Bill leaned back with arms crossed in front of his chest.

The news was digested in a heavy silence, nobody knew what they should say, nobody knew what the unpredictable events even meant. With another heavy sigh Mr Weasley began handing out the letters.

Before they could even open them though, there was a short quiet knock on the door. Had the kitchen not been utterly quiet, nobody would have heard it. They exchanged looks as Bill slid his wand into his hand and went to open the door.

The man standing behind it made everyone gasp, and Mrs Weasley's hands trembled visibly.

"Percy?" It wasn't clear who said it.

Percy stood there, shoulders hunched as he tried to avoid everyone gazes. "I –" He gulped. "I got your letter and I… I wanted to say, I am sorry, I was an idiot." The last part was barely a whisper.

"Oh Percy." Mrs Weasley jumped out of her seat and enveloped her wayward son. "It doesn't matter what happened as long as you are here again."

When Ron caught Percy's gaze as he looked over the shoulder of their mother, he frowned at him, trying to show him his whole disdain over his brother's actions. He remembered quite well the letter regarding Harry he had gotten from his brother and the grief he had caused their parents.

Percy averted his gaze quickly.

Ron glanced at his other brothers and saw the nearly murderous glint in the twins' eyes. They wouldn't forgive him just because he came back and said sorry either. A simple sorry wasn't enough.

"So, what changed your mind?" Fred asked with a hard voice. Percy flinched and Mrs Weasley turned around, glaring at the room in total.

"No, Mum, we need to know. Family is everything to us. _He_ threw _us_ away and now he comes crawling back with a sorry and everything should be fine?" It was Ginny who nipped the upcoming tirade in the bud, to the astonishment of most of the kitchen. That was the second time Mrs Weasley had been stopped before she could even begin one of her famous rants. Normally, they simply let her go and tried to outlive the storm.

That sweet little Ginny was the one to stop their mother, with a voice clearly expressing that she took no arguments, was a surprise, at least to the Weasley parents and the older siblings.

Ron mentally snorted, none of them had seen what Ginny had done in the Department of Mysteries. Oh, the twins had witnessed her performances in the DA, but they didn't know how tough she actually was, hadn't seen her go against adult Death Eaters. Again, Ron was sad to see that her childhood was overshadowed.

"I… I heard what happened at the Ministry a few weeks ago and what happened today at the Wizengamot… and now You-Know-Who is walking around freely… and I… I was an idiot and a pompous prat and…" Percy stammered.

"And a Ministry-loving, family-disowning, power-hungry moron." George finished for him.

Percy looked down. "Yes."

"Then we are clear." And with that, George settled down at the table again and started opening his letter. For a brief moment everyone was unsure how to behave, then they followed while Mrs Weasley explained shortly to Percy why they had written him and gave him the letter addressed to him.

Ron observed his brother as Percy stared at his name written in Harry's horrible handwriting and could guess quite accurately what he was thinking. By the horrifying and guilty look on his face, he remembered the letter _he_ had to written to Ron quite well.

Ron settled at the table, pulled his own letter out of the pocket of his trousers – where he had kept him, reading Harry's words over and over again - and read it again. The content was still frustrating, and he really hoped Hermione was already on her way.

* * *

Draco sneezed as he carefully turned another page of the very old book he held open on his knees. His father would be horrified to see him sitting on the floor, but the desk and chair he had used had filled up more and more with books over the day.

Were Lucius to look into the library he would probably have a heart attack. Numerous books laid aside, more than one open at random pages, while others were piled in high, unstable looking towers, and stacks parchment littered the floor. Hidden behind all the chaos, Draco turned another page, frowning. The text before him was not old, it was _ancient_ , written in Runes so old that some of them weren't taught at Hogwarts and he had problems translating parts of it.

Consulting an equally old book on the meaning of Ancient Runes his eyes widened, then a grin spread over his face.

"I've got you."

Grabbing a parchment from a nearby book tower – which promptly fell over – he picked up the quill he had placed behind his ear in fear of losing it in the chaos and started writing.

Potter may have shown true Slytherin traits using the _Truth and Oath_ Parchment, and perhaps he should have been in Slytherin, but Draco came from a long line of Slytherin ancestors and was nothing if not determined. That he had the vast resources of the Malfoy library at his disposal certainly played into his hands as well.

Reading the passage, he had translated from the old book about ancient treaties, a satisfying smirk settled on his features.

Yes, based on oath the reader had to agree to, _Truth and Oath_ Parchment could be practically unbreakable. The reader couldn't betray the oath he had sworn, and if he had been sworn to secretary – as Draco had – he couldn't willingly tell, or write, or show someone via the mind arts the content. Not even under the Imperius curse. The moment he tried, occlumency shields would hide the content and Draco would feel like his own blood was trying to burn him from the inside, while his magic would turn against him. The description in one of the books about such oaths had been horrifyingly detailed.

Therefore, an oath sworn to secrecy on the parchment was practically fool proof, but the crux was that if the content was forcefully ripped out if the reader's mind, it didn't count as _willingly_. It came down to the willingness - or better _unwillingness -_ of the reader.

Draco winced when he thought about the pain someone from whom the content of a _Truth and Oath_ Letter was forcefully taken, would be in. If he tried to go down this way, he had to put up a fight, a struggle good enough to satisfy the oath that he was not giving up the knowledge willingly. That meant it had to be literary ripped out of his mind. Which also meant he needed a Legilimence powerful enough to rip the oath shields apart.

He sighed. Now he knew the weakness of the oath, he theoretically had a plan, but how could he provoke his godfather enough to not only use Legilimency against him but break through his own rudimentary shields AND rummage through his mind to find what he needed to see? He had a headache only thinking about it.

"Potter, I hope you are bloody worth it."

* * *

 **AN:** Thanks for reading, let me know what you think.

Many thanks for a-bit-of-madness for helping to improve my grammar and spelling.

First published: 16th of February 2019


	13. The Weasleys

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or anything in the HP Universe. I simply wish to play in J.K. Rowling's playground for my own amusement (and hopefully yours too).

 **AN:** Not much to say, work is still hell and writing time sparse. But your reviews and support helps to keep the writing motivation it up. So, thanks to all who followed, favoured and reviewed.

This chapter is beta'ed by the brilliant **a-bit-of-madness** , many thanks and hugs to her.

Have fun reading.

 **On with the story.**

* * *

 **Chapter 13: The Weasleys**

Harry looked up from another pile of drawings when Hedwig flew through the gap in the bars into the room, landing directly on his shoulder, nibbling his ear and ruffling his hair.

Harry laughed and stroke her feathers. "Hey Girl. I missed you, too. How are Neville, Luna and Hermione?"

The owl ruffled her feathers and nearly purred under his fingers. Harry stood and walked to her cage, where she happily took her place and immediately fell asleep.

"I'll let you sleep, and then I hope you are up for another trip, only six left." He looked to the small pile on the desk, then sat back on his bed, picking up the pencil and continuing with his drawing, a picture of a Thestral. Its leathery wings stretched out, the head crooked to the side, a curious look on its face – if a bat-like skeletal horse could look curious.

"I think I am getting rather good at these." Harry mumbled as he regarded the half-done drawing critically.

* * *

Exchanging a glance with his twin, Fred opened the letter addressed to him, unease settling in his stomach. The atmosphere in the kitchen was heavy and thick and Fred didn't know what to do or say to lift it. It felt utterly inappropriate to crack a joke now, the only way Fred knew to lift the tension he was feeling.

How would one even make a joke about Voldemort apparently regaining his sanity and being declared innocent?

So, he said nothing and opened the letter carefully. The whole situation was unusual and disturbing. Harry had never written letters to all members of the family at once and he could see that Ron was worried of whatever Harry had told him in his letter. It didn't bode well for the content of the other letters.

The letter was not long, but the first sentences already increased the foreboding and unease feeling.

 _Dear Fred_

 _I can imagine that the whole family is confused and surprised by the number of letters I sent at once. I wish I could say it is a major prank, but it isn't._

 _I will not go into the details, but I vanquished Voldemort. To summarize, there was a prophecy involved, some nasty dark magic Voldy had performed that made him insane, some chess play by Dumbledore and my refusal to be a murderer._

 _I found a solution which was reckless and even a little bit stupid and perhaps the biggest prank ever. The end result is that Voldemort is sane again and I think that I am right when I assume that the sane person is different from the insane persona of Lord Voldemort. If not – well… bad luck._

 _I am quite sure that Dumbledore is not that happy with me at the moment, because I acted entirely on my own. If you want more details, ask Ron or Hermione and see what they share- or pester Dumbledore. The moment the wizarding population learns of the truth, I am not sure if they will hate me or love me for what I did. Both options are equally horrifying, and I've had more than enough of them already._

 _And there is the reason why I wrote all these letters. I wanted to say thank you._

 _Thank you for helping an overwhelmed eleven-year-old on the train, and for not making a big deal out of who I was. Thank you for rescuing me from a miserable summer and showing the whole school how ridiculous it was that a twelve-year old with a Muggle-born as a best friend should be the Heir of Slytherin. Thank you for giving me a memento of my father, even if you didn't know it. Thank you for standing by me this last year, despite the public opinion that I am a dangerous, unhinged attention seeker and liar._

 _Now that they know that Voldemort is back, I am their golden child, their hero again. I have had enough of the fickle opinions of the wizarding population. I have had enough of being their scapegoat and convenient hero when they need one._

 _I love magic, but I am not sure anymore if magic is enough to hold me in this world. Therefore, Harry Potter has to disappear. But not without saying goodbye and how much I appreciated that I was allowed to be part of the Weasley family. You didn't treat me much different than your own brother, and that meant a lot to me._

 _Thank you._

 _Fred, you may be one part of a twinset, but that doesn't mean you and George are identical. I know that a lot of people think that way and I know how it feels to be perceived as something that you aren't. Its tiring._

 _Yes, you are Fred and George and together you complement each other, but that doesn't mean that the individual Fred is not important. You are so much more than George's older twin and his partner in crime._

 _You are daring, outgoing and sarcastic in a way George isn't. Yes, you tend to overdo it in your pranks sometimes, especially on people you don't like and for this you have George to rein you in. But you are also compassionate, forgiving and very good in lifting the spirits if needed. You are loyal and brave and brilliant._

 _You, your brother and your prank products helped a lot to lighten the mood, to help us laugh and relax in the last very tiring school year, and your farewell show will be forever remembered in the minds of the Hogwarts students. I never saw Peeves showing respect to a student, and I don't think I will ever again._

 _I will never forget the ton-tongue-toffee incident and your really magnificent beards when you tried to cross the Age Line around the Goblet of Fire._

 _You are brilliant as Fred, never forget that, but also never forget as Gred and Forge you are off the scale and you together can make the world brighter and happier with a good laugh. We always need good laughs._

 _I will miss you and the whole Weasley family, but it is better this way._

 _Goodbye,_

 _Harry (son of Prongs, godson of Padfoot and honorary nephew of Moony)_

Fred didn't know what to say, he didn't even know what to think. For once in his life there was no witty comeback or remark coming to his mind. The content of the letter completely filled it and swirled around in chaos.

A prophecy?

And it seemed he really had vanquished Voldemort… or however you may call it if the being Voldemort was now sane – and that was certainly debatable if someone thought it would be a good idea to use some dark magic which resulted in insanity – and walking around as a normal citizen.

How in Merlin's name had Harry made Voldemort sane again?

Parts of the letter caught his eye. Harry wanted to disappear? How? Why?

He threw in a breath when he read over the 'thank you' again. He had never known that Harry thought of them like this and to even distinguish between George… his gaze flicked to his brother who held his letter in slightly trembling hands. He could guess what was in George's letter and with another glance to Ron, who was fiddling with _his_ letter, he understood now why his youngest brother looked concerned and even slightly ill.

George looked up and their eyes met. Fred was sure his own confused and alarmed expression was a mirror of the one his twin was showing. He swapped letters with his brother, both scanning the content of their letters for differences and hopefully more hints. It was nearly the same as his, but Harry had taken his time to speak directly to George as he had done to him in his letter.

… _You are so much gentler, and your humour tends to be not as biting, and your ability to rein in your exuberant brother is impressive…_

Fred wasn't sure if he should be affronted that Harry thought he needed reining in and was exuberant or being impressed that he saw the differences between them, with which even their mother had a lot of problems.

… _your vindictive side also shouldn't be overlooked…_

He could only agree, as much as George was the more level-headed and quieter one of them, as it had been his idea to leave the prank sweet for Harry's dumb cousin for example. Even if _he,_ Fred, was the one who took the lead most of the time and instigated most of their pranks, _George_ was more than often the mind behind them.

… _You are loyal and brave and compassionate…_

… _You are brilliant as George, never forget that, but also never forget as Forge and Gred you are off the scale and you together can make the world brighter and happier with a good laugh…_

In that moment Fred's throat constricted a little bit, confusion, unease but also appreciation filling him. A lot of people saw them as a unit - which they were most of the time – and they used it fully to their advantage. But they were still individuals, and sometimes they wished it would more acknowledged. That Harry had written them separate letters – even if the content was mostly the same – moved Fred and when he looked to George, he knew his twin felt the same.

He handed George his letter back. Looking at each other Fred knew that he was as worried as himself. He looked down at the parchment in his hand, Harry's signature catching his eye and he sucked in a shocked breath, his eyes flying to his twin again. George looked at him and nodded.

Yes, he also had seen how Harry had ended his letter. _The Marauders…_

Harry's dad had been a Marauder? Sirius had been one? They had lived with a Marauder in the same house?

He read the part again and thoughtfully tapped the tip of his nose. If James Potter was Prongs and Sirius Padfoot, then… Professor Lupin was Moony! Fred nearly facepalmed. Lupin was a werewolf, the nickname Moony was too obvious, why hadn't they ever realized this?

And Wormtail… Fred suppressed a growl - the backstabbing rat was a Marauder! He couldn't believe that one of his idols could be that cowardly snivelling traitor.

A shocked intake of breath shifted his attention to the kitchen and the people occupying the room. His mother had her mouth covered by a hand and tears in her eyes, while their father had his arm wrapped in comfort around her shoulders. Bill and Charlie clutched their letters with expressions of utter confusion that it could have been comical if it had been a different situation. Percy was pale and looked guilty, while Ginny was crying silently.

Fred shared another look with his twin and cleared his throat, everyone shifted their gaze to him.

"I don't know what's in your letters but in George's and mine, Harry is talking about a prophecy concerning Vo – " He stumbled over the name. "Voldemort and himself. Apparently, he _vanquished_ him by giving him back his sanity, however he accomplished that he doesn't tell."

He looked at Ron, who was the only one who didn't have a completely shocked expression on his face. But then, his brother had read his own letter earlier and had time to digest whatever his best friend had told him, and Fred would bet on his life that Harry had included more details in his letter to Ron than to George or him.

Ron nodded. "Yes, Harry told me about the prophecy, which was the reason why Voldemort tricked him to come to the Department of Mystery. It was a copy of the prophecy that he was after, but I think Mum and Dad already knew that."

All heads moved to Mr and Mrs Weasley, who shook their heads, but didn't answer.

"Professor Dumbledore never told us why exactly we were standing guard at the Department of Mystery." Bill's quiet tenor rang through the kitchen.

Fred saw the tips of Ron's ears getting red, never a good sign, but he marvelled at how well his brother - who was not really known for his calm and controlled temper- kept a leash on his anger.

"So, you just let yourselves be led by Dumbledore, like chess pieces, without ever questioning him? You put your life on the line without questioning why and for what? Like good little soldiers? Dad nearly died there!" Ron visibly clenched his jaw.

"Professor Dumbledore…" Mrs Weasley began, but Ron interrupted her.

"He is not invincible or without fault. Harry, Hermione and me, we can testify to that."

Charlie placed the parchment in his hand down and broke the upcoming argument. "That's not the issue here, at least at the moment."

They all looked at their letters again.

"It seems Voldemort somehow made himself immortal, which cost him his sanity and Harry found a way to reverse this. He hopes that action is enough for the prophecy, but I don't think that's the reason Harry even wrote the letters. The main reason is that he wants to say goodbye, because he wants to disappear." Ron sighed. "But I fear he is not telling the whole truth. I understand that he wants to escape from the public attention. Merlin knows he had more than enough of that. But why disappear completely? Why sever ties with everyone? Or at least it sounds like that to me. I'm worried, after everything that happened to Harry over the last year and now trying to come to terms with his godfather's death and all that at his _relative's place_ … I know Harry."

Fred stared at his brother. He had always known that Ron wasn't stupid, only very very lazy, but this Ron? He wasn't sure if he would ever witness this side of his personality - ever.

"As strong-willed as he is, he is prone to moodiness. He has nightmares and tends to withdraw into himself. He is one of the kindest and most compassionate people I know, which can backfire. I remember the state he was in after Cedric, I can only imagine how he is now that S… Sirius died. Hermione once explained to me that all these are signs for – what do the Muggles call it? - " Ron fell silent.

"Depression, they call it depression." Percy answered in a quiet voice. "It's a serious mental illness."

Fred looked surprised at his brother, he had nearly forgotten that he was here. Then his thoughts went back to what Ron had said. Something was nagging at the back of his head. He didn't know Harry as well as Ron, but he had seen him spiral down into anger and moodiness all through the last school year.

He also clearly remembered the dreadful dark little bedroom they had rescued Harry from years ago. At that time, they hadn't thought much about Harry's homelife, but the older he got the more he became aware that something was definitely not right. He exchanged a glance with George, who looked grim. Both shuddered trying to imagine how Harry tried to come to terms with his godfather's death in that kind of environment.

He was brought out of his reverie by a knock on the door.

Everyone startled and heads moved in surprise in the direction of the entrance. Bill, the one nearest to the door, drew his wand and stepped forward. He threw a quick glance around the room.

"Do we expect anymore company?"

Another knock, harder and more demanding. Then a female voice. "I know you are all there! Open the goddamn door, Ronald Weasley, or Merlin help me I will ask Hagrid if you could help him grooming Aragog!"

Ron practically flew through the room and ripped the door open, throwing his arms around a figure standing at the front step, a figure with a head full of bushy brown hair.

"Hermione, thank Merlin you are here."

* * *

Marvolo Slytherin, sat before the fire in the old Riddle manor, a glass of wine in his hand and a smug smile on his face. The stipulations he would have to pay for the damage done to the Ministry a few weeks ago were high, but nothing he couldn't manage with the help of some of his richer Death Eaters.

Everything really had gone perfectly.

He looked down at the signet ring representing his title of Lord Slytherin, a silver snake on a dark green background. The ring and the family magic had accepted him instantly and eagerly, leaving no room for doubts. Sadly, the Slytherin vaults at Gringotts hadn't been what he expected. A few heirlooms, some old tomes he couldn't decipher, some rusty old swords and armour. No family home or manor had been listed anywhere. It seemed Slytherin's descendants hadn't left anything worthwhile, but it didn't matter, he had more than enough resources through his Death Eaters and now he had the title and the seats on the Wizengamot, that was the most important. Money could be obtained, political power was priceless.

He swirled his glass of wine. Lucius would contact his own lawyer tomorrow morning. Marvolo hoped that the Malfoy patriarch could be kept out of Azkaban, he was so much more useful on the outside.

Taking a sip, Marvolo mused about the massive changes he had gone through in the last two days. Three days ago, he had still been insane and set on the way of destruction to reach his goals. Now there were so many possibilities he could act on, so many ways to lead the populace of magical Great Britain, to shape the wizarding world, and all that because of the actions of a teenage boy.

His mind wandered to the last time he had seen Harry Potter, laying on the pulverized remains of glass on the floor in the Ministry, and let out a heavy sigh.

Somehow, he had to find a way to repay the boy - apart from making no more attempts on his life. The few times he had been in the boy's mind he had gotten the impression that he didn't get along with his relatives. Perhaps he could act from that angle. Theoretically he had a claim on the boy based on the soul-link and – if he thought now about it – the blood link established at the resurrection ritual.

He shook his head. Was he really thinking about taking the Potter boy in? What a foolish thought. He had killed his parents and had tried to kill him multiple times, the boy would resent him for making his claim known. And nothing he ever heard had hinted that the relatives of his weren't doting and loving towards him.

'Only what he had seen in the boy's mind.' The thought lingered for a moment in his mind. 'And you have to keep your Horcrux safe.'

He took another sip, pushing the thoughts aside and sighed. The world had definitely been less complicated when he was insane. Then he stood, deciding to wander through the manor, to appraise if he wanted to stay here and renovate it or search for another residence.

* * *

Hermione pondered over the contents of the letter the whole drive to the Burrow. She stared at the scenery flying by without even seeing it, her mind racing in a hundred directions all at once. Parts of Harry's writing flashing behind her eyes.

 _Where should I start? What can I tell?_

She was sure he had withheld much more than he had told, but she was equally sure that he had revealed much more between the lines than he had wanted.

 _How could I explain to you that my days were numbered?_

Did he still feel like that? He had been withdrawn their last few days at Hogwarts, but she had contributed it to Sirius death and therefore hadn't tried to push Harry to talk, wanting to give him time to get a handle on his grief. Perhaps she should have pushed.

 _Voldemort had built himself a safe net to prevent his own death, my scar is - accidentally - part of it._

That part worried her the most. He hadn't said outright that there was a soul shard in his scar, but he definitely implied it. And how was he planning to sever the connection? To do so he had to free the soul piece, she guessed.

She had a suspicion what Harry meant when he told her what to do with Nagini if needed, but if that was the only way to free the soul shard in the snake…

What was Harry planning for the one in his scar? And was it really only located in his scar? Or had it connected to his own soul? Would it even possible to remove it if that was the case? She shuddered at the thought that a part of Voldemort had been in her best friend all this time. How big was that part, actually? Had it had any further side-effects than the connection she had witnessed so far? She guessed that would depend on the localization.

Worrying, she sucked on her lower lip. She definitely didn't know enough – or anything at all - about soul magic.

Had it affected Harry's soul and magic? Could that even be possible? Had it tainted Harry?

He always was rather quick to pick up more offensive and dangerous spells… and Dumbledore himself had told Harry his Parseltongue ability came from Voldemort, because he left something behind that night… he had told Harry that back in their second year.

Hermione sucked in a breath. _Dumbledore_ had known! Or at least he was suspicious of the connection between Harry and Voldemort. He had _known_ and hadn't informed Harry about it. She knew Professor Dumbledore had a lot of secrets, she even understood to a degree why he hadn't told Harry about the prophecy before, but _this_ … this was something affecting Harry far more than the prophecy. It concerned him, his body, his soul and his mind!

She had high regard for their Headmaster, but even she saw that Harry was faring better when he wasn't kept in the dark. Yes, he was impulsive and reckless, but the more information he had the more his instincts pushed him in the direction with the highest success rate.

And all this secret keeping of the Headmaster's just aggravated Harry's distrust of adult figures more.

 _I am tired, Hermione. So tired of being me._

It sounded like he was giving up and in all the years she had known him, he never had sounded like this, not even as an eleven-year-old, knowingly walking to face off the murderer of his parents.

… _I will forever remember Malfoy's face when you punched him._

A small chuckle escaped her at the memory, but then she frowned. Why was Harry mentioning Malfoy in his letter to her? They had clashed too many times and Harry never had mentioned him in one of his letters to her.

She somehow had the feeling that this small detail was a bigger clue than Harry had wanted it to be.

The car stopped suddenly and startled Hermione out of thoughts. When she looked out of the car window, she saw the familiar silhouette of the Burrow. The lights were on in the kitchen. She knew her parents couldn't see the building, as it was behind strong protection wards since Voldemort had been resurrected, but they knew that at the end of the seemingly empty driveway the building stood, nonetheless.

Hermione jumped out of the car and hurried to the door of the lit kitchen, hoping that the people behind it could help.

* * *

Bill was concerned – no, he was agitated. After he had brought in the Muggle parents of Ron's friend Hermione, he half-heartedly listened to the conversation around him.

Hermione told them about her own letter and Ron handed his over for her to read. He listened to her raising voice as she read over the letter. Registering what she didn't say – soul pieces, Horcruxes…

Bill clutched the parchment in his shaking hands, wishing Fleur was here. But they had planned for her to visit the Burrow and meet his family in one or two weeks. He missed her strong and calming presence.

He looked down at the letter again, not needing to open it to know word for word what it contained. The content had burned itself in his brain.

 _Dear Bill_

 _I know we only meet last summer, but I have the feeling I've known you much longer through the stories Ron tends to tell._

 _I know that you have a far better understanding of dark and cursed objects and the like from your work in Egypt as a curse-breaker for Gringotts. Therefore, I will make it brief. Voldemort made Horcruxes, seven in total. You can imagine what it did with his mind and his magic._

 _I know this because I have a connection with him via my scar and can see into his mind, I used it a lot in the last weeks. Therefore, I know that Horcruxes are not that seldom, he had read about old Egyptian tombs were these objects had been found and how they were destroyed. He used this to build strong protections around some of his Horcruxes and for making the decision where to hide them. Not that it mattered in the end._

 _My scar doesn't connect me solely to Voldemort, but to all of his Horcruxes and therefore I could gather them all in my mind and send them back to him via the connection. Okay, not all of them, Nagini – his snake – is one and as the Horcrux in her merged with her own soul they can't be separated without killing her._

 _I will try to sever the connection between myself and him shortly. I already made a test run and it was beyond painful, but I found a method with which I can be absolutely sure that it is destroyed. I don't want a piece of him inside myself._

 _I tell you all this because I know that you will put the pieces together yourself when you hear the content of the letters I wrote. From someone who knows what a Horcrux is there is no hiding the truth, but I hope you understand why I have to do this. I didn't name Horcruxes in the letters to your family and only explained a little about Voldemort putting parts of his soul in objects to Ron._

 _They wouldn't understand why I had to act on my own. They would all think they know better, but I've lived with this my entire live, I know and understand the connection better than anyone who simply knows about it. And after everything I went through, I think I am entitled to make this decision myself._

 _Take care of your family._

 _Goodbye_

 _Harry Potter._

Bill gulped. He knew very well the effects soul-splitting would have - insanity, dehumanization. After everything he had heard about You-Know-Who, it fitted, but the wizard he had gotten a glimpse of in the bank today hadn't looked like a snake-like madman and after what their father had told them what had occurred at the Wizengamot… it gave credibility to Harry's claim that he managed to send the soul pieces back.

But he also knew that, theoretically, a living Horcruxes was not possible. Never in his field of working had he heard that someone had even attempt it, but now…

How would a Horcrux react on a whole living soul already filling the container? Would it try to merge with it? Would it try to take it over? Taint it?

Depending on this, how could Harry destroy the Horcrux?

With everything he knew, he was certain that it could only be removed if the object containing it was destroyed beyond repair. For a living container, that only concluded death.

Nausea rose inside him at the thought that a teenager, a boy his youngest brother's age, was thinking about his own death. With everything Harry had told him in his letter, Bill was sure that if giving back Voldemort his sanity wouldn't help, Harry knew he had to die to stop the Dark Wizard.

Or had he found another method? A method which didn't include his own death? If yes, in what way would he try to destroy the soul shard in himself? Was it even possible without him dying? Or would he try to kill himself to get rid of the soul piece? Would he be that desperate?

Bill crumpled the parchment further in his fists. He didn't know Harry well enough to answer the last question. His gaze shifted to his brother and his bushy haired friend. Could they?

He took a deep breath. Why had Harry gone into details in his letter? Yes, he knew about Horcruxes, he had even destroyed one or two in his time in Egypt, but he was no expert. Was Harry counting on him to explain Horcruxes to the others?

But he couldn't. As a curse-breaker for Gringotts, he had to swear specific absolute confidentiality oaths. After you were sworn in you were allowed to learn what you needed to know to break the darkest curses and handle the darkest magic, which you all could find in old tombs. Magical knowledge the Ministry had banned, if he ever even tried to talk about some of the magic he knew about – or Merlin forbid, teach someone who wasn't sworn in – they would throw him into Azkaban.

It didn't look like Harry had explained Horcruxes to his parents in their letter or they would be more horrified, and somehow Bill had the suspicion that Harry knew _he_ couldn't talk about the matter with anyone outside of a handful of people and goblins.

How could he help Harry, make it clear to the others how serious the situation was? He couldn't break his oath, but as it sounded, he didn't need to.

"I don't believe this nonsense about him trying to disappear. Whatever he has planned to sever this connection to Voldemort," everyone in the room flinched, "is really dangerous and I don't think that Harry plans on his survival." Hermione looked at all of them with a hard expression, but Bill had the suspicion she knew more than needed. Looking at her and his brother, he was sure Harry had explained some details about You-Know-Who's attempt on immortality.

"Now now my dear, why would you think like this? I am sure Harry – "

"You don't know Harry like we do." The brown-haired witch interrupted Mrs Weasley with a tight voice. "If he thinks something has to be done, he does it, without even considering the consequences to himself."

Ron nodded vehemently by her side.

Mr and Mrs Weasley shared a glance and sighed. "It all seems like guessing. Tomorrow morning Professor Dumbledore has called an Order meeting here at the Burrow. As your father said earlier, we will all attend and see what Professor Dumbledore thinks is best to do, after we share what we know." Mrs Weasley's tone suggested that the matter was settled for now.

But Bill couldn't miss the glance his youngest brother and his friend shared, or the one the twins didn't need to share, or the dangerous glint in his sister's eyes. Whatever Dumbledore would decide, he had the feeling these people would go against him if needed. And Bill would help them. He cleared his throat.

"I can't tell you how I know it, but the situation is really dire. I don't have enough facts on what Harry is attempting to do, but I can tell you, it doesn't look good." All eyes were on him now.

"The method You-Know-Who used to gain semi-immortality is well known by Gringotts and the way to reverse it also. It…" He shook his head. "it doesn't look good." He didn't know how to explain it any better.

"Bill, what do you know?" His father asked.

Bill shook his head. "You know I can't talk about certain things, but I think whatever Dumbledore has to say on the matter tomorrow morning, someone still should go to Harry and check on him."

"You know it is dangerous to just appear at Harry's home. Even a hint of a wizard or magic near could lead the Death Eaters to him."

"I know Mum, but…"

"If magic is the problem, we could drive there and visit him." The quiet voice of Mrs Granger rang through the kitchen and all heads snapped to her.

"We are non-magical, Muggle as you call it. We have our car here and nobody would find it suspicious if we drove there and rang the bell." Mr Ganger at her side nodded.

"That's – actually brilliant." Ron led out a breath and everyone nodded.

"Then when you have this meeting here tomorrow, we will drive directly to – " Mrs Granger looked in question at the people in the room.

"Number 4, Privet Drive, Surrey." Mr Weasley answered, and the Grangers nodded again.

"Good. We will drive there the earliest in the morning and if needed bring him back here with us."

"You shouldn't – "

"If the boy is in any danger, regardless because of himself or someone else, we will act accordingly." Mrs Granger interrupted Mrs Weasley. "If our Hermione is right, and she is right most of the time, then Harry has planned to do something dangerous perhaps even deadly. As an adult and a mother, I will not sit idly by and not interfere."

Her daughter rushed and threw her arms around her. "Thanks Mum."

Mrs Weasley got a thoughtful look in her eyes. Bill knew that she thought the world of the Headmaster, but she also loved Harry as if he was her own, she had in more than one order meeting raised her voice for him, but most of the time she still believed that Dumbledore knew best.

The matter was settled for now, and they all knew nothing else would be done this evening. But the uneasiness didn't leave Bill and the parchment burned in his hands.

* * *

 **AN:** Thanks for reading, I hope you liked Fred and Bill. Bill's perspective was not planned, but he insisted to be put in. Let me know what you think.

On another point, I decided not to show all the letters mentioned in the story, it would slow down the pace even more and interrupt it. So only the ones which are needed for the plot will be shown in full length. But I plan to publish ALL letters in an accompanying piece afterwards.

Many thanks for a-bit-of-madness for helping to improve my grammar and spelling.

First published: 1st of April 2019 (and no it's not an April's fool joke)


	14. How to irritate a certain Potions Master

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or anything in the HP Universe. I simply wish to play in J.K. Rowling's playground for my own amusement (and hopefully yours too).

 **AN:** So, finally the next chapter. The plot is moving forward. I hoped to give it to you much earlier, but work is still hell and writing time sparse. But at least thanks to your reviews and support the motivation for writing is still up. Thanks to you all. To everyone who followed, favoured and reviewed.

This chapter is beta'ed by the brilliant **a-bit-of-madness** , many thanks and hugs to her.

Have fun reading.

 **On with the story.**

* * *

 **Chapter 14: How to irritate a certain Potions Master**

The sun had gone down already when Hedwig woke up and immediately went to the water Harry had changed a little bit earlier. Then she ruffled her feathers and hopped on his arm as he held it out for her. Settling on the bed, he gently stroked her while she started cleaning her feathers.

"In some parts I am incredible curious what some of them thought reading their letters. I bet some of their reactions were hilarious, especially Snape and Malfoy's. But being there in person would have been counterproductive." A small amused smile appeared on his face before it was replaced by thoughtful expression. "So Hedwig, what do you say? Up for another round?"

Hedwig hooted affirmatively and Harry grabbed the next bundle, binding it to the leg she presented to him before walking her to the open window. A slight breeze made the warm summer night bearable.

He petted her again. "Thanks girl, have a safe flight."

Hedwig nibbled his ear, then made her way out of the window, through the bars and up into the darkened sky.

* * *

After inspecting the whole Manor, Marvolo was sure he had either to reconstruct the whole thing, tear it down completely or buy another estate somewhere. Apart from a few rooms, it was definitely not habitable. Frustrated, he stepped back into the only room with a functioning fireplace and nearly fell over Nagini, who was curled up in front of the fire.

The snake raised her head and even without the ability to form facial expressions he knew she was glaring at him.

" _What is it, Nagini?"_ He asked her in Parseltongue settling into the armchair he had occupied earlier. For a moment he thought she wouldn't answer, she was sometimes like this, not speaking with him for days if she wasn't in the mood.

" _Too cold here."_ Was the short reply, but then she was a snake and her vocabulary wasn't that extensive.

Marvolo looked around the room, yes, the house-elves Lucius had lent him had worked wonders but the knowledge of how the rest of the Manor looked made him sigh. The prospect of spending the evening here with only his disgruntled familiar wasn't that appealing.

" _Then let's see if we can move to a warmer, more inviting place - at least for the evening."_ He told her when she still looked at him, clearly demanding for him to do something.

Sending one of the Malfoy house-elves to their patriarch to ask if it was convenient for him to come to the manor, he realized that he needed his own. He sighed – again - writing it on his mental list of things to do, which got longer by the minute.

A few minutes later he had Nagini trapped around his shoulders as he stepped through the fireplace to emerge in the private reception hall of Malfoy Manor, Lucius already awaiting him.

"My Lord" he bowed. Together they walked through the manor to one of the tearooms, exactly how many Malfoy Manor had, Marvolo could only guess.

"We would be delighted for you to stay for dinner, my Lord. Severus will be there as well. He was called by Dumbledore this afternoon." Lucius said after a while.

Marvolo inclined his head as they reached the tearoom. "Thank you, Lucius, I gratefully accept the invitation. Let's hear what Dumbledore said after dinner."

Nagini slithered away to the corner where the house-elves clearly had placed a heated stone under a warming lamp for her the moment both men took their seats. He heard her hiss in contentment when she settled down and felt a little guilty that he had neglected her in the last days.

They talked a little about the happenings so far and what Lucius had put together for his lawyer to build his defence on, it sounded like the Malfoy patriarch was as prepared as he could be, the only thing to do was contact his solicitor.

As a house-elf served tea, Marvolo switched the topic to maintaining a household, the purchase of house-elves, renovations and reparation agencies and he was happy to discover that Lucius had profound knowledge and interest in the real estate market. When Marvolo described to him the condition of Riddle Manor they fell into a heated discussion about the pros and cons of buying a new estate, renovating the manor, or tearing it down to build a new one.

They didn't realize how late it got, till Narcissa stepped into the room and cleared her throat.

"My Lord, Lucius, dinner will be served in a few minutes."

They followed her to the family dining room, which Marvolo would have once thought of as an insult. Now, he wasn't entirely sure why it ever would have bothered him, quite the opposite. It reminded him of his last year in Hogwarts, when the original few of his Knights of Walpurgis sat with him in the common room and discussed everything from magical theory to politics, comfortable and at ease.

"Severus will join us shortly, hopefully after he coaxes Draco out of the library. He ignored the house-elf." Narcissa said, taking a seat at the table. She sounded slightly irritated and Marvolo tried to hide his amused smile, by the look he got from both Malfoys he was not entirely successful.

"Is he still in there?" Lucius asked his wife slightly surprised.

She nodded. "Yes, he didn't leave the entire day. Whatever it is he is obsessed with now; I really hope it is more practical and successful than his attempt to brew a potion to give himself the ability to speak to animals." She placed the napkin in her lap and lifted her goblet to sip on her wine.

When it was clear she wouldn't clarify her statement Marvolo raised an eyebrow at Lucius, who sighed and answered. "If I recall correctly, he was jealous of Potter and his Parseltongue skill and thought to better him it would be logical to speak _all_ animal tongues. To be fair, he was only twelve at that time." He shook his head at the foolishness of his son. "He managed to brew a _somewhat_ successful potion which enabled him to _speak_ in different animal tongues but lost his ability to make anything else than animal sounds and managed to insult all of our owls. They refused to deliver _any_ post for over a week."

Marvolo had heard of this particular potion, not that hard to brew but an accomplishment for a twelve year, nonetheless. It only had one minor drawback that not even the best Potions Masters could improve - the drinker could not converse with animals _and_ humans; they always lost the ability for the human language.

That wasn't the fact that surprised Marvolo. Had he heard correctly?

"Potter speaks Parseltongue?" Marvolo questioned, stunned.

Both Malfoy's nodded.

"And… you are sure of this?"

This time Narcissa answered. "Yes, in Draco's second year their Defence teacher tried to install a Duelling Club again, without success, but the one class they had Draco cast _Serpensortia_ while duelling Mr Potter. Instead of frightening the boy, Mr Potter's Parseltongue ability was revealed."

That was certainly an interesting fact. Marvolo wondered if it was an inherited ability or if the Horcrux somehow was responsible for it. Was it even possible to transfer a magical skill? It was certainly unknown territory, never before had a human Horcrux even existed.

Thinking about it, he actually hoped that the boy wasn't successful in getting rid of the Horcrux in himself as he had said he would attempt in the letter to Severus. Not even because it was _his_ Horcrux, but because of what they could learn, the magical knowledge they could gain. How tight was the link between the magical core of a person and the soul?

He was brought out of his musing when a house-elf appeared, trembling, beside the table.

"Tally is sorry to disturb, Mistress and Master. But Master Draco and Master Snape needing your help. They not waking up. Tally doesn't see, Tally is not knowing what happened."

Lucius and Narcissa stood immediately, both looking worried.

"Where are they?" Narcissa addressed the house-elf.

"Library, Mistress."

They were both out of the door in an instant. Marvolo decided to follow them. Severus and the Malfoy heir, both unconscious in the Library? What could have happened? Severus was a very powerful and capable wizard, and his quick mind enabled him to handle nearly every imaginable situation. He had spied on him for years without him realizing it! Yes, he had been insane for most of that time, but still…

And he had the feeling that this was somehow connected to the happenings of the last days, that it came back to the Potter boy again. He couldn't explain why he thought so, but the suspicion was there. Wasn't everything these days somehow linked to the boy?

* * *

Draco was not happy with the progress he had made. _Yes,_ he now knew how he could get around the _Truth and Oath_ parchment. And yes, he knew he needed Severus for this. But _how_ exactly, that was still the question.

He certainly wouldn't jump into action and see what would come out of it. That was what a _Gryffindor_ would do, and he was certainly not a Gryffindor!

He needed a solid plan with backup plans if something went wrong - and backup plans for the backup plans, just in case.

He ignored the house-elf calling him for dinner and turned a page in another old tome full of dust and faded, nearly unreadable writing. If he understood correctly, the writer tried to link a ward to a blood line and make it somehow sentient to prevent wizards with malicious intent towards the blood line from stepping through the ward. It wasn't mentioned if he had been successful.

He definitely didn't know enough about the Blood Wards. He wasn't sure if they could just walk into the house, or if the wards would stop them. He knew from Ha – _Potter_ 's letter- that they were anchored in his mother's blood and that they would protect him, so that he was somehow protected from the Dark Lord. But in what way? Was it an actual, physical barrier against the Dark Lord? And what about his marked followers? How specific was this ward? Could it distinguish between wizards with ill intent and those without, like the wizard in this book tried to accomplish? He hadn't enough information and that frustrated him to no end.

He was deep in another book, this time about blood magic when the door of the Library opened.

"Draco stop whatever infernal nonsense you are doing and join us for dinner. Whatever you are obsessed about now can wait till later." The voice of his godfather came over the piles of books from the direction of the Library entrance.

Only seconds later he heard a gasp.

"Merlin, Draco what have you done to the Library!" Severus sounded shocked and Draco nearly snickered as he tried to imagine the look on the man's face, as he was laying on his stomach he couldn't see the man over the stacks of books – not that he could have if he had been sitting, even while standing it would have been a challenge to look over the book mountains.

Deciding to ignore the man, he turned the pages. Sometimes they would let him be when he was occupied with what they called his 'little projects'. He scoffed, they thought he didn't know what they thought about his projects, but he knew, and they _all_ had seemed important at that particular time. In hindsight, most of them were doomed to failure from the beginning, but you never knew if you didn't try.

"Draco? Answer me this instant and explain what you have done here and why, or you will be scrubbing cauldrons till you are of age."

Now he sounded annoyed, but so far, he didn't step further into the chaos Draco had created in the Library. He knew it was only a matter of time though, till Severus had enough and would make his way to him.

Not that it was that important at the moment.

Turning another page, he tried to decipher the archaic French text in the old book which had belonged to his family since they could trace their origins back on the mainland.

" _Draco Lucius Malfoy!_ " Severus hissed, the sound resonating through the silent Library.

Draco knew this tone, knew that he didn't have a choice. He sighed and got up from the floor. Damn, he needed more time, he didn't have a solid plan, not to speak of backup plans.

But… he couldn't hide any longer and Severus would look through every lie he attempted. He couldn't explain the situation, but he also couldn't _not_ explain. It seemed he had to act a little Gryffindor-ish.

Ah well, if Har – no _Potter -_ could act like a Slytherin, he certainly could find some Gryffindor in himself, as horrible as that would be.

"I am here, Severus." He called out, placing as much boredom and indifference in his voice as he could as he stepped to the side where there was a gap between the book stacks from which the entrance was visible. Meanwhile, his mind was racing in different directions, trying to decide on his next move.

The dark eyes narrowed when he saw him, and Severus made his way through the piles and stacks of books and scattered parchment laying around.

"What do you think are you doing here?" Severus voice was flat and quiet, never a good combination and when Draco looked around, it registered for the first time the _amount_ of chaos he had created, and how many old and valuable books were simply laying around. His father would certainly have a heart attack and Severus never had patience for messy people. Draco saw in the way his lips pinched and his eyes flickered over the book titles and notes he had made, that Severus was worried and already slightly irritated.

A combination he could work with, if he could irritate him more… Draco sighed inwardly - yes, he _could_ irritate him more, _but…_ was it really the right moment for it, or should he deflect?

But Severus was already irritated...

Oh well…

Recalling all the times Harr – _no_ Potter - and the Weasel had driven Severus beyond irritation, he shrugged dismissively and answered in a bored voice. "Research."

"Research." Severus voice didn't change, but his gaze bored into Draco. "In what, precisely?"

Draco shrugged again and Severus' eyes narrowed further in irritation. He knew that his godfather hated that gesture – which was exactly why he used it now. "Oh, this and that."

He turned around and tried to sit again, but a hand grabbed his upper arm and he was spun around. Severus was now standing directly before him and looked beyond impatient, but Draco knew him well enough that he was more worried than angry.

It didn't really matter, but he needed him more riled up, needed him to believe he was hiding something big – which he did. It took a lot to get his godfather so angry, irritated or worried that he would even consider using Legilimence on him to get to the truth.

And all that, while appearing unwilling to appease the oath.

"Do _not_ talk to me like that, Draco. You will tell me this instant what is going on." Severus leaned down slightly, his focus completely on Draco. Demanding him to talk. And despite that he _had_ to somehow reveal what was going on, he also was slightly reluctant.

He didn't want to have his godfather searching through his mind, not only because of the pain he knew would be accompanied by it, but also because of what _else_ he could find. Even if he only saw the contents of the letter, he would still see Draco's reaction to it, his thoughts about it, he would realize his… he didn't even know anymore what he should call what he was feeling towards Harry – _no_ Potter. He could agree on some level with obsession, but certainly it was the obsession with an enemy, even if a small voice in his mind disagreed.

If he thought more closely on it, he actually didn't want to tell Severus at all.

But he couldn't deflect anymore, couldn't turn this around, not with his godfather standing before him. The man knew him too well, would see through every attempt to trivialise the situation.

He shrugged again and didn't miss the way Severus gritted his teeth. Now he understood why Harry – _no_ Potter… damn... Potter! – Potter used it; it was actually a little funny that such a simple gesture could get a rise out of Severus so easily.

"Nothing of interest for you. You know… only a _little_ project." Severus definitely didn't miss the emphasis he placed on that wording.

"And that warrants _this_." The man gestured around the room and went on, his voice hard but quiet. "Do I even want to know how many valuable books you have handled in that mistreating way? I would expect such an act of ignorance and neglect from most of the Gryffindors and some Hufflepuffs, but never from one of my own Slytherin students and never from you. What got into you?"

When it was clear that Draco wasn't going to answer, Severus turned in frustration to look over the books, taking in the titles and chapters at which they lay open and his scattered notes. Draco watched him from the corner of his eyes and knew the moment Severus came to the right conclusion. The man's eyes widened, and he bared his teeth when he swirled around to Draco again.

"You are researching soul magic and blood wards. Tell me did you get a letter in the last days?"

Draco's silence seemed enough of an answer.

"What did he tell you in his letter!"

"Who in what letter?" Draco kept his relaxed and bored stance because he knew it would annoy Severus even more. He had started this dance, he had to finish now, even if everything in him screamed that this would not end well.

"Potter!" Severus snarled. "He did send you a letter, telling you… telling you…" He staggered back and looked horrified at his godson. "No, he didn't tell you, why should he!"

Draco looked at the man and sneered. "Tell me what?"

Severus' face morphed into something full of hate and disdain and for the first time Draco could understand why some people were afraid of him, but he also thought how Harry – no… oh well… Harry was used to seeing these emotions directed towards him, from more people beside Severus.

"Draco, you will tell me _at once_ what he wrote to you." Severus voice was now dangerously low, a tone every Hogwarts student knew to avoid.

Draco took a step away from his godfather and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "No. I don't even know what you are talking about."

His godfather was certainly angry or worried or whatever enough, but how now to get him to attempt to get the truth out of his mind. And had it been enough reluctance so far to appease the oath?

Severus took a step towards him, his eyes flickered to one of the books lying open on the ground, the one about oaths and medieval treaties and he stopped instantly in his movement. His gaze focused on the book and then back to Draco, realization dawning on his face.

" _Truth and Oath Parchment._ " He whispered and Draco panicked.

This wasn't how it should go. Severus couldn't know _why_ he was behaving as he did. He only should be angry enough to break into his mind and find then what it was all about, not breaking into his mind because he already knew what was going on.

Oh Merlin, Severus _knew_ about the letter from Harry! Had come to the conclusion easily.

What if the oath would interpret it as Draco breaking it? He had sworn on his blood and magic. He certainly didn't want his blood and magic to turn against himself or to lose his magic or one of the other horrifying effects a broken oath had.

In his panic, he wasn't expecting the hand holding the wand, nor the other hand lifting his chin so that dark eyes could bore into his own, nor the word spoken in a soft voice.

" _Legilimence_."

It took him by surprise and made it easier for Severus to slip into his mind.

* * *

Whatever they'd thought they would find upon entering the library, it wasn't this.

Marvolo walked behind Lucius and Narcissa into the library, or the chaos the library had once inhabited in. Stacks and piles of books, many of which had tumbled over, scattered parchment with furious scribbles all over them and opened books were everywhere.

The Malfoys were motionless for a moment then called out for Severus and Draco.

"Here, Mistress and Mister. They are here." The house-elf called from the centre of the chaos, which looked like it was created by a stray tornado.

Severus and the young Malfoy were laying motionless on the floor only a few inches apart from each other. Narcissa and Lucius rushed to their unconscious son, while Marvolo knelt beside Severus, who had his wand in his hand.

"Draco? Draco, darling, wake up. Draco!"

He heard Narcissa behind him but paid her no mind for the moment. Marvolo gently lifted one eyelid of the unconscious man and hissed in surprise.

His black eyes were moving, his pupils contracting rapidly, as if he was seeing something and they had a slight shine to them. Marvolo knew those signs. His gaze flickered over the chaos around him, taking in the book titles and the notes he could see.

They were in a handwriting that was unfamiliar to him, but he was sure he was right when he assumed it was the Malfoy heir's script.

He heard the distinguished rustle of a wand being taken out of a sleeve holster and moved instantly.

"No!" He placed his hand on Lucius who had his wand in hand, the tip moving towards his son. The Malfoy patriarch looked afraid and unsure.

"Don't use magic on them and don't move them away from each other." Marvolo lifted the boy's eyes only to be sure, but it was as he expected, they had the slight shine and faraway look of someone who was under mind magic.

"What is it my Lord?" Narcissa asked, a slight waver in her voice.

"It is not something life threatening. If I understand the situation correctly, Severus cast Legilimence on your son and they are both now in his mind."

He got a bewildered look for his explanation.

"But… they are not holding eye contact." Narcissa's hand hovered over her son, unsure what she should do. "Isn't eye contact needed for it?"

"For an average Legilimens, yes, but Severus is certainly not average. He is highly skilled in mind magic."

"But why? Why would Severus do this?" Lucius looked from his son to his friend and back, a little horrified- understandably, as mind magic was highly intrusive.

"I would think that he found out that your son knows something, something of serious interest to Severus which he wouldn't or couldn't talk about."

Both Malfoys now looked at their son in surprise.

"What could Draco know that would be of interest to Severus?"

Marvolo looked at the boy's notes again. "I suspect that Severus and myself were not the only ones who got a letter from a certain boy in the last few days."

"Draco got a letter from Mr Potter?" Narcissa whispered, confused.

"I would assume so, yes. Severus mentioned that Potter wanted to send someone non-obvious a letter, telling this person everything, so that someone out there would have the whole truth."

Lucius blanched. "And you think Potter choose Draco, my Lord?"

Marvolo nodded. "He certainly would fit the label, and based on the research your son did here," he gestured to the books around them. "I would say yes. Your son looked into soul magic. Why else should he do this if Potter didn't tell him about my Horcruxes?"

Now both Malfoys scanned the books with interest. Narcissa was the first to speak again. "Blood wards and Oaths. Why would he research this?"

"Blood wards are easy enough. Till the events one year ago, Mr Potter was protected from any harm from me by his mother's blood. Dumbledore erected Blood Wards around his residence in the Muggle world to keep him safe there," he explained.

"And Oaths?" Narcissa questioned.

Here Marvolo hesitated, he had a good guess, but not definite knowledge or facts.

"We will only truly know when Severus and your son are out of the boy's mind again. Until then I can only assume, but I think Potter told your son some truths he wasn't prepared to know, and he bound him with some sort of Oath not to talk about it. Your son then tried to find a method to break that oath - without suffering the consequences. Severus realized this and now he is inside your son's mind, trying to break the hold of the oath or finding out what he knows this way."

All three looked down at Severus and the boy.

"Don't move them, they have to come out of it on their own. If we break their connection due to separation or magic, it could destroy your son's mind and trap Severus within it. We can only wait for now."

Narcissa called a house-elf instantly and seconds later the Potions Master and the Malfoy heir each had a pillow under their head and a blanket placed around them, to at least keep them as warm and comfortable as possible. They simply had to wait and hope that both of them would wake up with their sanity intact.

* * *

Ron paced the small space of his room in circles. He knew Hermione would wait till she was sure the adults were all gone to bed and asleep, but Mrs Weasley had sent them to bed hours ago, and he wanted – no _needed_ to talk with her.

A quiet knock startled him out of his thoughts, he hurried to the door and let Hermione slip inside.

The moment he closed his door, both spoke.

"What do you think – "

"What should we do – "

They each broke off. Ron settled himself on his bed and gestured for Hermione, who took a seat on his desk, to speak. She bit her lower lip, then sighed.

"I think the plan for my parents to go tomorrow to check on Harry is solid, but I still worry. Is it enough? Could we do more? He sounded so …resigned in his letter. Yours have a little more emotion in them, but the one he wrote to me is nearly clinical. Despite the content, the way he wrote your letter gives more information, and if I take into account everything that's happened – not only at the Ministry – it doesn't paint a good picture. He is clearly emotionally distressed and the letters sound like goodbye letters."

"What they are. He even says so." Ron added; Hermione only huffed.

"Yes, but they sound like more like a goodbye _forever_. Something is nagging at me, and I can't grasp it completely." She placed her letter beside Ron's, which was laying on the desk, and read over both of them again.

"Mmh, if I pretend not to know the person writing this then…" She went quiet and Ron could see her eyes flying over the words on the parchments, her mind racing under the mass of curls.

For a while, Ron contented himself with leaning back and observing his friend. Her fingers following different sentences, the way she silently mouthed some phrases in one letter and compared it to the other one. Then she blanched and her movements were a little more frantic as her eyes flickered from one parchment to the other.

When she looked up at him with a horrified expression, Ron knew she had figured out whatever was hidden beyond what Harry had actually written, perhaps even beyond that – and it wasn't good.

"What is it, Hermione?" He questioned.

She took a breath and gulped. "If… if I read these letters like a stranger would, without the knowledge of the person writing and the person reading it, while only keep the knowledge in mind that the person writing it had suffered some trauma and showed signs of depression the last time someone had seen him… and don't fixate on the actual content, but more on the words and in what combination they are used… then I would think that the person was…"

Her hands shook slightly as she tried to smooth out the parchments before her, before she spoke in a nearly inaudible whisper. "… suicidal."

Ron, who had leaned towards her to hear better, jerked back.

"No… Harry wouldn't…" He shut his mouth with a click of teeth. His mind refusing to understand what Hermione had suggested. Then he thought back on all the adventures they had since he knew Harry and he returned Hermione's terrified stare.

"He never had great self-preservation skills…" He felt somehow guilty voicing this. "He still feels guilty about Diggory's death and the nightmares only got worse over the last year…" His mouth was suddenly very dry.

"And if he thinks that it is the only way to get rid of the soul piece in himself…"

"… he would definitely do whatever is needed. We know Harry is like that." Hermione finished for him.

The horrifying truth of what they thought their best friend had planned hung oppressively in the air. The silent dragged on several minutes, while they only stared at each other.

"What do we do know?" Never had Ron heard Hermione's voice be this small and unsure.

"We should go and check on him, this very minute. Tomorrow morning could be to late. We could floo – "

"There is no nearby connection to the floo network." Hermione interrupted him.

"Then we ask the twins to apparate us there. They would be on board. Harry is like a baby brother to them. We could go now. They are still awake I'm sure. We floo to their apartment at Diagon Alley and then we all go to Harry." He jumped up and went to the door.

"Ron… shouldn't we tell someone first?" Hermione's question stopped him.

"Who? Mum would wave away our concerns and say that we should wait till the morning to talk with Dumbledore, as if he knows everything better. They wouldn't believe us." He didn't even turn around to answer.

"But… remember the last time we took action without knowing exactly what was going on and without informing an adult."

Ron flinched when he thought about what had happened and what could have happened. They all could have died, not that it would have been the first time, but somehow being hunted by Death Eaters had been more real than trying to reach the Philosopher's stone or encountering Lupin's werewolf. Or perhaps that was because someone _had_ died, someone he knew.

He gritted his teeth, his hand still on the doorknob. "And what of the times we actually tried to tell an adult and had to act nonetheless?"

He heard Hermione stand up and move towards him.

"Didn't we make it worse nearly every time? Without us Quirrell would never have gotten the stone out of the mirror, if we had told an adult about the Basilisk or even about Harry hearing voices in the walls, perhaps it wouldn't have escalated like it had."

"And what of third and fourth year?" He whirled around and tried not to raise his voice, despite the anger swirling through him. "Dumbledore himself told you to take actions because he couldn't and none of the adults were any help during the tournament, none of them even tried to get Harry out of it. And last year…" He clenched his fists. "He tried to tell McGonagall about the detentions, but she only told him to keep his head down!"

Hermione took his fists into her hands. "I know, I know. But still… this is too important to mess it up. What if we are wrong in our assumption? We apparate there and Harry is fine, moody and depressed but nevertheless fine. But with us hurrying there without a plan, without informing someone… we could lead the Death Eaters to Harry."

Ron gulped; he hadn't thought about that.

"And just let's assume we are right, and we arrive there just in time, do you even know what to do if he is hurt? There are multiple ways he could do it and I have a general idea of first aid, but I am not a paramedic – an emergency mediwizard."

She squeezed his hands. "Just this one time, let's listen to the adults and wait. In a few hours we can talk with Dumbledore directly. It's only a few hours. The letters don't sound like he would 'disappear' directly after sending them. And I could be wrong, I could be reading things into it which aren't there. Please, Ron, let us be sensible at least once and inform adults about our suspicion. It is not like they think everything is alright. My parents drive to Harry tomorrow morning and we tell Dumbledore. Don't act rash, I could be wrong."

Ron knew Hermione wasn't wrong, and her voice betrayed that she didn't think she was wrong either, but despite all of him screaming at him to act immediately, Ron let Hermione's reasons convince him. With a sigh, he walked past her and slumped on the bed.

"Fine, but after the meeting we are going to go to Harry, however we manage that."

Hermione nodded. "Alright. I think that if we explain it properly Professor Dumbledore will agree with us. Even he has to see that something is definitely not fine with Harry." She squeezed his shoulder shortly and went to leave his room but turned around in the doorframe.

"Don't do anything stupid, Ron. Goodnight." Hermione closed the door behind her with a quiet click.

* * *

 **AN:** Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think.

Many thanks for a-bit-of-madness for helping to improve my grammar and spelling.

First published: 26th of May 2019


	15. The last Night

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or anything in the HP Universe. I simply wish to play in J.K. Rowling's playground for my own amusement (and hopefully yours too).

 **AN:** We are nearly at the climax. Yes, I said no letters anymore, and technically in this chapter is no letter, at least no complete letter, only parts of it.

Thanks to all of you! To everyone who followed, favoured and reviewed.

I have one little thing to mention. Yes, I love your reviews and comments, but if the only thing someone is writing is 'please update', especially directly after I uploaded the last chapter, that's not motivating at all. It puts unnecessary pressure on me. I have a real life, I have a very demanding and time-consuming job, I have family, friends and hobbies. So, as much as I love writing fanfiction, there are days I simply don't have the time to write.

This chapter is beta'ed by the brilliant **a-bit-of-madness** , many thanks and hugs to her.

Have fun reading.

 **On with the story.**

* * *

 **Chapter 15: The last Night**

Over a dark forest with only a few small settlements scattered around flew a white speck nearly silently through the night. She had a mission, and something in her hurried her to finish it and return to her wizard as fast as possible. On the edge of a small village, she finally reached a cabin hidden behind trees.

No light was on to indicate that the inhabitant was awake, but a window was open to let in the cool night breeze.

She carefully entered the small bedroom and landed directly on the bedside table, announcing her present with a hoot. The bundle on the bed shifted, revealing light brown hair flecked with grey sticking ruffled from sleep and blearily opened his eyes. The instant the man was awake enough to recognize her, he sat up, blinking at her in surprise.

"Hedwig…"

She ruffled her feathers and hooted again, lifting her leg for him to remove the letter. Green eyes only stared at her. She hooted again, louder, and moved to sit on the bed, nipping his finger where it lay on top of the blanket.

He jerked back and finally turned to take the letter from with shaking hands. He sucked in an uneven breath when he recognized the handwriting.

"Harry…" The whisper was barely loud enough to be heard by his own ears.

Satisfied, Hedwig hopped to the window ledge, hooted a quick goodbye and took flight again. The wizard still sitting in the bed tore his attention away from the letter in his hand momentarily to watch her fly away, then he was back staring at the folded parchment in his badly shaking hands. What would the letter contain? He hadn't seen Harry since the happenings in the Department of Mystery.

Was Harry angry with him? Would this letter contain his rejection of him?

He had thought a lot of the boy, his heart aching to help him in his grief, even if his own grief nearly torn him apart. Harry was the last link to his friends, the last reminder that there was once a time they all had been happy and alive.

He was such a great kid, bright and brave and gentle, with a temper to rival his mother. The outside a reminder of James, the inside of Lily, and yet Harry was still his own person, similar but different to his parents. He had started to love the teenager the little boy he had played with years ago had become.

But he had been too afraid to reach out. Too afraid of rejection. In what way could he even help Harry? He could never replace Sirius.

And then Dumbledore had sent him on a mission again, a welcome distraction from his grief. In the last two weeks he had travelled all over Europe to gather information and try to make contact with werewolf packs. He was the only one who could do it, they would never even talk with a wizard. They were wary of him and sometimes hostile, but they allowed him to present his case. He was only back in Britain for three days now.

He had reported to Dumbledore and then had disappeared to his small cabin, which nobody knew about… well Sirius had.

Then he had gotten an update on what was going on with You-Know-Who and the Wizengamot from Kingsley. It all sounded so unreal and Kingsley didn't have any news how the Order wanted to proceed now. He had seen the lines of worry and uncertainty in the Auror's face when they had met near Diagon Alley that afternoon.

He could understand it. The tale that You-Know-Who had apparently gained his sanity and had willingly stood before the Wizengamot and then had gotten away with only a slap on his hands, was frightening.

He didn't know what he should think about it, and the same unease and uncertainty he had seen in Kingsley's face squeezed his insides. Especially after the visit of Nymphadora's Patronus a few hours earlier with the call for an emergency Order meeting in the morning at the Burrow.

And now this…

As he unfolded the letter and settled back on the headboard of his bed to read it, the unease in him only grew.

The first few sentences made him put the letter down and hide his face in his hands. He couldn't believe what he had read.

 _Dear Remus_

 _As you know what the lack of communication did to me last summer, I assume by the lack of it this summer that you put the blame for Sirius death on me. You are not wrong, at least not entirely. I understand you perhaps won't even read this letter or if you read it – resent me for sending it. For reminding you what had happened._

 _I understand if you put all the blame on me, I blamed myself too in the beginning. I needed someone to blame or the anger and grief would have destroyed me. I hope that you can move from this phase and if it means I have to bear the anger and the blame, so be it._

 _All I can say is, I am sorry._

He had failed him and failed him far worse than he ever could have imagined.

Remus picked up the parchment with shaking hands and read the rest of the letter through a curtain of tears.

* * *

The Burrow was silent and dark. Most of the residents were asleep. Ron had fallen into a fitful sleep, while Hermione had shifted restlessly in her bed, listening to the soft breathing of Ginny across the room. It had taken a long time till she drifted off. Arthur was snoring slightly, but not even sleep could completely smooth the lines of worry in his face.

One person was still awake however, and after hours of laying awake, Molly had slipped out of bed to make herself a cup of tea, as she had always done when sorrow, fear and conflicted thoughts kept her awake. Now she was sitting in the kitchen, cradling her third cup and still her mind wouldn't rest. The events of the day and Harry's letter were keeping her awake.

She glanced down to the parchment on the table. Harry's letter to her was now littered with smudges from teardrops. Some words were nearly impossible to read. But it didn't matter, she had memorized the content.

It was the first letter Harry had ever written to her, and now she regretted never having encouraged him to write her before. She had seen the grateful glances from the black-haired boy whenever she had treated him as one of her own. She remembered the first time she had seen him in King's Cross, small and skinny and oh so polite.

Sometimes he was still too polite.

Her eyes followed the words she had read more than once in the last hours.

 _You never gave me the feeling I was unwelcome, quite the contrary. Sometimes I even wished I was born with red hair, just to be more of a Weasley._

Had it been right to shut them down and decide without listening to a few more reasons from her children?

She knew that she often appeared too forceful. She knew that her children sometimes resented her for it. She had seen the glances Ron, Hermione and the twins had exchanged and had seen the expression in Bill's and Ginny's faces. She knew her children and she knew that they didn't agree with her and that they wanted to act immediately.

She could even admit that she wasn't completely sure of the right thing to do herself.

But they were in a war and these were her children and she feared for them, always, for all of them. _Especially_ for Harry.

He was always in the middle, always getting hurt.

The mother in her wanted to apparate directly to him, to confirm that he was well and if he was not, let all hell loose to ensure the boy was safe and well again.

She could imagine that Harry was not happy in the moment. How could he be after losing his godfather and returning to his dreadful family? The mother in her screamed to get the boy to the Burrow and hug him and tell him that everything would be fine in the end.

But she also knew what consequences hasty decisions could have. She had experienced them first-hand herself.

They had been so careful in the first war against You-Know-Who. She hadn't been an active part of the Order of the Phoenix, not with that many small children at home, but her brothers - her brilliant, powerful brothers had fought. They hadn't had a secure headquarters like this time, the Order had met secretly in Hogwarts and mostly operated in cells of two to four with save house scattered all over Britain. Contact had been as sparse as possible, the risk of discovery too big. They had taken every precaution possible. But it hadn't mattered.

Fabian and Gideon had somehow gotten the news that their mother had fallen ill and had taken the risk to send an owl. The Death Eaters had tracked it back to them. They had fought bravely and had taken most of the Death Eaters down with them. They called them heroes.

She would always remember how they had found them.

She feared that trying to contact Harry would have the same consequences. So far, nothing hinted that You-Know-Who knew where Harry lived during the summer and the blood protection would ensure his safety.

But what if they apparated there and they were followed? The thought alone brought back the feelings of that awful day and the fear that it could happen again.

Every hint of magic in that area could alarm the ministry, and You-Know-Who already had his fingers everywhere in the Ministry, and now he was allowed to walk freely among the British population again.

Molly wasn't sure if she should believe that he really stopped his violent ways, that he really was sane again. And even if he was, was a sane You-Know-Who really better? And there were so many mad Death Eaters still running free, who would jump on the possibility to get to Harry.

Waiting to see what Dumbledore thought they should do seemed logical. Most of the time the old wizard knew what to do, was thinking in ways they could never dream to comprehend themselves. It had saved many lives.

But the decision Dumbledore had made regarding Harry didn't appear logical anymore. If she was true to herself, it didn't always seem as though Dumbledore had Harry's best interest in mind. She knew the old Headmaster had secrets, secrets which could cost them the war if they ever reached You-Know-Who's ear - and a lot of them concerned Harry.

But then… wasn't the war already finished now? The Death Eater activities had been sparse already for weeks and had stopped altogether two days ago.

She sighed and emptied her cup of tea.

Had it been the right decision to wait till morning? What if her children had been right? Ron and Hermione certainly knew Harry better than her; they were his best friends. Whatever he had put into their letters it had definitely rattled them. As hers had rattled her.

Would it really have been as dangerous as she thought to quickly check on him?

Uncertainty made her waver. But then she remembered how they had found the bodies of her brothers, surrounded by several death Death Eaters. How the simple decision to contact their ill mother had led to their deaths.

She wanted to prevent something similar happening. Not to one of hers. Never again.

But… were Ron and Hermione right about what they had hinted at? She had never considered that Harry could take such actions, but then she knew from experience what the loss of someone dear could do.

She glanced at the letter again.

 _You welcomed me into your home and your family. Thank you!_

The simple sincere words brought tears to her eyes.

Over his first summer with them she had come to love Harry as if he were her own and had sworn to herself that she would give him all the love he seemed to miss. She didn't want to replace Lily, nobody could do that, but her little boy had been so deprived of love and affection that she wanted him to experience it as often as she was allowed to. She remembered vividly the surprised look Harry had had when she and Bill had visited him before the Third Task.

 _You stood in for my family at the third task in the Triwizard Tournament, you argued with Dumbledore on my behalf, you showed me something I had always dreamed of when I was younger. You showed me what having a family should be and I am grateful for it._

She had never realized how much it had meant to Harry until now. She smoothed the parchment and her eyes flickered over the sentences again.

 _And despite me being the reason more than one of your family members were in danger, you still welcomed me with open arms. I really hope your children know what they have in you._

She chuckled weakly at that. Oh, her family knew what they had in her, but they didn't always appreciate it.

The next part of the letter made her breath catch every time she even thought about it.

 _I was always confused why Voldemort was so set on killing me, but Dumbledore only told me the Prophecy at the end of the last school year. I don't know if it would have changed anything if I had known earlier, but I think I would have been at least a little more careful and understood the precautions and safety measures. The knowledge would have even helped with understanding why I had to stay at the Dursleys, despite not being welcome there._

Merlin and Morgana, a prophecy! That Dumbledore was even foolish enough to let something so notoriously hard to interpret and understand dictate not only Harry's life, but by consequence the efforts against You-Know-Who!

And let them guard it at the Department of Mysteries without telling them. Arthur had been seriously injured because of it! Had she known what exactly it was that they were protecting she would have told Dumbledore what she thought about Divination!

She could only agree with Harry, that if Dumbledore would share more of his secrets with them, they would all understand some of his actions better and would be more willing to agree with him. Keeping important information from them had become the Headmaster's weakness.

 _But Dumbledore did withhold more information that directly concerned me. Through my scar, I have a direct connection to Voldemort, I sometimes see into his mind and he can do the same and because he is an Occlumence and Legilimence, he can control this link._

And it seemed Harry thought so too.

 _If only I had known this last year. I would have realized - or at least I hope I would have - that the dreams and visions were sent by Voldemort to lure me into the Department. Perhaps I even would have realized the trap and Sirius would still be alive._

The lump in her throat made it hard to breath. She really hoped that Harry was not blaming himself for his godfather's death. And to have that monster in his head…

The thought alone was horrifying.

 _But one good thing came out of it, I managed to see the attack on Mr Weasley, at least all the horrific dreams and visions were worth it._

She had seen Harry after the attack on Arthur, after he had this horrible vision. He had looked awful and the knowledge that he had them so often made her heart bleed.

What else must the poor boy endure?

She would have a word with Dumbledore first thing in the morning. The man needed to understand how his actions- or inactions- and the withholding of information had hurt a lot of people, Harry among them.

And not only because he apparently was the cause of Harry being left with the muggles, as he had confirmed in the letter.

 _And did you know that it was Dumbledore that left me on the Dursleys' doorsteps in a cold November night? Fine, I only included this tidbit because I know you will scold him on my behalf for this._

She chuckled wetly at that part. Oh, this boy…

Despite all his sufferings, despite his – what she feared was more than the simple fact that he wasn't welcome there – not so perfect home, he was a gentle soul. Trying to distract from the horrible details he had described, making her laugh despite everything.

The wish to either apparate to the muggles directly or storm the castle to have a word with Dumbledore now was nearly overwhelming.

He was such a good boy and her heart broke when she thought about all the things he had already endured. She counted the day Ron decided to sit with the lonely black-haired boy on the Hogwarts Express as one of the luckiest her family ever had. And it seemed Harry agreed with her.

 _I am eternally grateful that Ron sat with me on the first train ride, not only because he was my first friend, but because he brought his wonderful family with him._

The way Harry had been prominent in nearly every letter that first year had made her gratitude raise for the boy.

… _he stayed with me through the ordeals, through the last very tiring school year. You certainly raised him right. You raised them all right - yes even Percy, he only needs a good knock on the head. Take care of them._

Harry's friendship had meant, and still did mean, everything to her son. For that she would have loved him, but when she had the chance to really get to know him, it had been like gaining another son.

And he fit so well into her horde. Her children had taken him in as if he had been there all along. Her wonderful brilliant children.

 _And let the twins do their business, they are brilliant at what they do. Their products are better than Zonkos and they are businessmen, if they continue like this, they will be a huge competition. And not only times like these need a good laugh._

She was so proud of them, of all of them. The fear that this war wasn't as finished as some hoped, and that she could lose them nearly choked her.

 _Now I think I said everything I wanted. Thank you, Mrs Weasley, for being there when my own mother couldn't._

 _Take care of Ron for me._

 _With love,_

 _Harry Potter._

With tears falling down on the parchment again, Molly swore to herself that whatever Dumbledore would say, she would apparate directly to Harry, the moment the Headmaster stepped through the fireplace she would inform him. Consequences be damned. Her boy needed her.

* * *

A faint noise made Marvolo rise from the light sleep he had fallen into. At one point the Malfoys and he had conjured comfortable settees and had settled down to wait. Apparently, they had all fallen asleep, if the light snoring, he still heard from somewhere on his right was an indication.

He didn't look to confirm if it was Lucius or Narcissa, there were things he didn't wanted to know about his followers. Was it even still appropriate to call them his followers? Inner circle or close associates were probably better terms.

A groan reminded him that there was another member of his inner circle in the room, who was the reason they were sleeping in the Malfoy Library to begin with. It seemed Severus and the Malfoy heir had finally separated from each other. With a groan of his own, Marvolo pushed himself into a sitting position and blinked away the sleepiness.

Even with his vision cleared he could only barely make out the two shapes still laying on the floor in the dim light. But yes, the two wizards who had been in a mind-link before, were now separated, both had moved away from each other. As he watched them for any sign that they were conscious, Severus rolled to the side and gagged. Marvolo was at his side instantly.

Thank Merlin, he didn't actually vomit. There were things in the world Marvolo preferred not to have to handle.

"Severus." He spoke as soft and soothingly as possible. He could only imagine how much strength it had cost Severus to do what he had done and in how much pain he now was.

The Potions Master gagged again but started to breathe more evenly than before. Marvolo called one of the house-elves and ordered them to bring a First Aid kit. The sound of the elf popping in and out woke the Malfoys, but Marvolo paid them no mind in the moment as they immediately knelt beside their son. Marvolo focused on the man before him, who still had his eyes closed.

"Severus, can you open your eyes or give any sign that you hear and understand me?"

Depending on what he had to do to break into the boy's mind - and Marvolo really wanted to know why – a damaged mind could be a consequence. He hoped not.

The man groaned and slowly opened his eyes, blinking and staring unfocused.

"Good, really good. Do you understand me, Severus? Can you nod, if you understand me?"

Slowly the dark eyes focused on him and then, to Marvolo's immense relief, Severus nodded. Taking one of the pain reliever potions from the First Aid kit, neatly labelled in Severus' precise handwriting, he opened the glass vile and helped the Potions Master to drink it. Sadly, he couldn't give the man a potion to counter the magical and mental exhaustion, as it would react badly with the magical residue from mind magic.

Only moments later Severus sighed in relief and sank back to the floor. Marvolo decided to give the man a few moments before he tried to speak with him again and shifted his attention to the Malfoy family. He could see the boy breathing, but he didn't respond to any attempt of his parents.

He stood up from his position and joined the Malfoys. Narcissa was caressing her son's face and talking in a soft soothing voice with him.

"Draco, darling, we are here. You are safe. Can you please open your eyes or let us know you are here, too?" There was no reaction from the boy.

Marvolo looked at Lucius, who had a pained expression on his face.

"He doesn't react to our voices, but his breath which was laboured shortly after he and Severus separated is steady and normal. He moved by his own to settle on his side and gave a weak groan, but since then nothing." Lucius' voice went weak at the end.

Marvolo looked at the boy again. Breaking into someone's mind could have several effects on the mind of the one violated, especially someone who had mind shields of his own and had the magic of an oath protecting the information the attacker was after. Both of these were factors in this case, if he had read the situation correctly.

The boy could come out of it with a shattered mind, insane like people who had spent too long under the Cruciatus Curse or prolonged exposure to Dementors. He could be lost in his own mind and appear like the victim of the Dementor's kiss. His mind could be partially damaged, which could lead to memory loss and personality changes. His shield could be damaged irreparably, making his mind vulnerable for every kind of mind magic and often leading to emotional instability.

Marvolo didn't know what he should wish the boy. He never had children and never wanted one. Even with his newfound sanity and emotions, he couldn't imagine what Lucius and Narcissa felt in the moment.

A weak voice brought Marvolo out of his musing.

"Draco… fine… sleep… exhaustion."

Three heads snapped to the side where Severus had moved his head to look at them.

"You are sure?" Lucius whispered while Narcissa looked at him with hope in her eyes. When Severus nodded, both relaxed in relief for a moment, then the blond woman called a house-elf and ordered it to settle Draco in his bed.

She kissed her husband on the cheek and quickly stopped to squeeze Severus' shoulder, before leaving the Library to wait on her son's bedside till he woke up.

Lucius and Marvolo helped Severus to a settee. Despite the pain reliever, the black-haired man still looked like he was in agony, and he was too exhausted to keep his eyes open for a prolonged amount of time.

"Why did you do this, Severus? Did Draco receive a letter from Potter?" Lucius enquired.

Severus nodded.

"Oath… had to break… Draco… behaviour… suspicious…" The Potions Master's voice trembled from exhaustion, but he still tried to explain.

"Told… everything… Prophecy… Horcrux… homelife… not…"

Marvolo slowly leaned forward as Severus' voice grew even fainter.

"What is it Severus? Did Potter tell Draco what he wanted to do regarding the Horcrux? Is he in danger? Is there something we can do?" Marvolo asked after Severus grew silent and only took several shaky breaths but after a while he nodded.

"Potter… wants to… Horcrux… back… you… help… danger to… stupid boy… stupid… foolish…"

Tears started to run down Severus face the sight disturbing Marvolo greatly. Never had he seen the stoic Potions Master cry, not even out of pain under round and round of Cruciatus.

"What Severus? Danger to whom?"

The next words coming from Severus were inaudible, but when Marvolo leaned further down he caught the last whispers which left Severus' lips before he fell unconscious.

"To himself… I'm sorry Lily… so sorry…"

Marvolo could only stare at the implication and hoped he heard wrong, but by the look in Lucius' eyes, he had heard it too.

* * *

 **AN:** Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think.

First published: 27th of July 2019


	16. The next Morning

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or anything in the HP Universe. I simply wish to play in J.K. Rowling's playground for my own amusement (and hopefully yours too).

 **AN:** Thank you to all of you who reviewed, followed and favoured.

So, we are moving forward. The next three chapters are already written and are in editing process in the moment, the time between this update and the next shouldn't be too long.

This chapter is beta'ed by the brilliant **a-bit-of-madness** , many thanks and hugs to her.

Have fun reading.

 **On with the story.**

* * *

 **Chapter 16: The next Morning**

They had moved Severus to one of the guest rooms of Malfoy Manor. After making sure that their son was really well and in a healing sleep, Narcissa took over Severus' room and had banned Marvolo and her husband from it, that had been hours ago.

Marvolo wasn't sure where Lucius had gone, but he himself sat into the nearest tearoom and ordered the strongest coffee the house-elves could make, only to wander back to the hallway in front of Severus' room after the first cup, pacing in front of the door.

He knew what he had heard, Lucius had heard it too. It sounded like the Potter boy wanted…

Marvolo shook his head. He shouldn't jump to conclusions. He needed more information, information Severus had. They could wake him, but they shouldn't. The mind was a complex thing and after such an ordeal needed the time to heal, to wake up by itself.

There were no potions to help it along. As advanced as the magical world was in healing nearly everything that afflicted the body, they still didn't know enough about the mind and how it interacted or was influenced by magic.

If they woke Severus now, nobody knew what could happen.

Marvolo sighed and continued to pace.

He didn't want to risk Severus, especially his brilliant mind. They had given him a general healing potion and a potion Severus had invented himself, which helped to minimize the pain from agonizing Legilimence sessions. That Severus had found the need to even invent such a potion made Marvolo sigh again. He could imagine when and why Severus had invented the potion.

Merlin, he wanted to throttle his younger self.

The door opened and Narcissa stepped out and spoke softly. "He is awake my Lord."

Marvolo's head snapped to her. "He is lucid?"

She nodded and stepped aside to let Marvolo into the room.

Severus sat propped up in his bed. He was pale and his hands, which tried to reach the cup of tea Narcissa has left on the bedside table, were shaking. But he was awake, and his expression was grim and determined.

He looked up when he heard Marvolo stepping into the room.

"My Lord." He nodded and settled with the teacup in his hands back into the pillows.

Marvolo took the chair at the bedside and examined the Potions Master. "I'm honestly surprised that you are already awake Severus."

"I had reasons to wake up." His voice was hoarse and far too weak for Marvolo's liking, not even after rounds of the Cruciatus had the Potions Master sounded so weak.

"So, we heard right. The boy is a danger to himself."

The statement was met with silence. Severus briefly closed his eyes as in pain and took a sip from his tea, gripping the cup with white knuckles.

"Tell me Severus, what transpired in the library and what did you learn from young Mr Malfoy's mind?"

Severus looked at him, and Marvolo caught his breath for a moment at the amount of pain, remorse, horror and guilt swimming in his eyes. Despite having his emotions back, he was sure that he had never felt that many or that deeply - he couldn't even fathom what could evoke such emotions.

Then Severus spoke.

* * *

Late in the night a white snowy owl reached the castle of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry once more, three letters still attached to her leg.

Her first destination was a small hut at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Smoke was rising from the chimney and a large dog greeted her with a bark when she sailed through the open window and landed on the table. The resident wasn't present, but that didn't bother her.

Hedwig picked at the ribbon holding the letters to her leg, till it loosened, and the parchments slipped on the table. Examining them she grabbed two and hopped to the open window again.

Her next destination was the owlery, where in summer when no students were residing in the castle, the incoming post not directly delivered to the recipient was collected in a basket and later distributed by a house-elf.

Both letters went into said basket.

Hedwig allowed herself a sip of water and then went hunting in the Forest. She needed the energy. The flight home was long, and she wanted to be as fast as possible.

* * *

Remus arrived at the Burrow in the early morning, his mind still on the letter he hadn't had the energy to read again. It didn't matter though; the contents had been burned into his mind.

 _All I can say is, I am sorry._

The sun hadn't even climbed over the horizon. Not even the chickens were awake, and he only saw one or two gnomes waddling over the yard to find their way to the garden in the back. It looked so peaceful that Remus stood there for a moment to compose himself, the contrast to the chaos in his mind too great.

 _I am sorry, that the mistakes, actions and presumption of a lot of people, not least myself, led to the deaths of your best friends. My mistrust in specific people and my impulsiveness cost you dearly._

Since Sirius' death he had had the feeling that the world should stop, should acknowledge what was lost. He had felt disconnected from everything and everyone around him, his mind had played the moment in the Department of Mysteries over and over again.

 _I know, nothing I do will bring Sirius back, but I hope that Sirius would at least be proud I stopped my parents' murderer._

Every distraction had been welcome. He had been thankful that Albus had given him something to do, that _someone_ had been telling him what to do. After James and Lily's deaths that hadn't been the case, and he had gone numb and fallen into a kind of rigour, increased through the sheer disbelief that Sirius had seemingly betrayed them. After weeks, the disbelief had replaced anger, anger which had woken him up, but had been as unhealthy as the numbness before. He didn't have the time to be numb for weeks this time, not now... Harry needed him.

 _I always thought of you as an honorary Godfather, as something like an Uncle. Or what I always imagined a real Uncle should be._

This wasn't the time to wallow in his grief and wait for someone else to handle things for him. Sirius would want him to be there for Harry, and Harry deserved so much better from him.

 _Even if I have known you only for a short time. I would have loved to have you in my life earlier, I could have used a werewolf Uncle in my childhood._

 _I think I am right if I assume that Dumbledore told you it would not be safe to see me? And now, in parts due to my own failures I lost you as I lost Sirius._

Harry, who was hurt, so hurt that Remus had felt it in every drop of ink on the parchment.

 _I will end this letter with a goodbye._

 _Goodbye Remus, I know you don't want to see me again and I understand, even if it hurts. But at least on this I can assure you, you never have to see me again._

Remus took a deep breath of the fresh morning air and crossed the yard of the Burrow, where to his surprise a rather new looking car was parked. Despite the early hour, the kitchen windows were alight. Carefully stepping over several wellington boots and old cauldrons laying around, Remus approached the door and knocked.

Footsteps were heard from within and a tired looking Molly opened the door with her wand pointing at him. "What shape did my boggart take?"

"That of your family and Harry, dead." Remus answered quietly.

 _I fulfilled my destiny, placed on me by the prophecy._

Molly lowered her wand and stepped aside to let him in. Nobody else was in the kitchen, but he was sure he heard someone walking around one of the upper floors.

"It's good to see you, Remus. But a bit early. Tea?" She busied herself on the kitchen counter.

"Yes, please." Remus took a seat at the table and took a sip of the cup of tea Molly was putting in front of him. It was perfect, hot, strong, with a drop of milk and enough sugar to rot your teeth, exactly like he liked it. "I couldn't wait. I received a letter -"

Molly sighed. "Of course."

Remus looked startled at her. "What?"

The red-headed witch prepared herself a cup of tea and sat opposite of him. "We all received letters from Harry." She said with a meaningful look at Remus.

"What do you mean all of you?"

"My whole family and Hermione. That's the ones we know of. But I'm sure that there are more. Albus didn't say it outright, but this emergency Order meeting isn't only because of the happenings in the ministry and the newfound Lord Slytherin." Molly took a sip of her tea. "The letters worry us. Harry is speaking of disappearing, Ron and Hermione are adamant that we go and get him, despite the possible danger. And I… first I wasn't so sure that it would be the best way to handle it, but after thinking it through I can only agree. They know him much better than Arthur or I and the way he wrote the letter, the tone he is using… it is disturbing."

 _I did what I had to do, even if I never had a choice in the matter._

Molly shook her head shortly.

"My children are not happy with me because I said that we would wait for Albus, they immediately wanted to go. Their concern and Harry's words kept me awake the whole night. And now… now I am not sure if waiting was right." She huffed and kept on talking.

Remus wasn't sure if Molly was actually speaking to him or just wanted to let it all out.

"I know he cares for Harry, but he has so many things he has to keep track of, that I am not sure he's forgetting that Harry is only a child. Does he really have Harry's best interest in mind, or does he more often than not only see the being meant to destroy one of the darkest wizards of magical Britain in history? I always believed in Albus Dumbledore… but now that I'm aware that the wellbeing of a child could be in jeopardy because of some of his decisions… I can't stop thinking about the last few years, and if we could have changed some things if we had questioned Albus' decisions, not only in regard to Harry."

She drained her cup in one big gulp.

"But then I think that these are not the times to question Albus Dumbledore, not with You-Know-Who walking among us as a normal citizen." Her voice shook and Remus was sure that the horrors of the first war against You-Know-Who briefly rose in her mind. Then she looked up at Remus, worry and unease in her eyes.

He took her hand and squeezed it.

"But you still do it, don't you, Molly? I also can't stop thinking if we should have asked more questions, should have done some things differently. Harry's letter actually frightened me. The things he wrote…" Remus took a staggering breath, the sentences from Harry's letter swirling behind his eyes.

 _All I can say is, I am sorry._

Now it was Molly who squeezed back.

"We will do right by him." The statement was said with determination and Remus agreed. Harry should be their first priority in the moment. Especially because they couldn't really do a thing in regard to the reborn and acquitted Lord Slytherin and even if not, why should they? Harry was his family, the last remains of the family he had found for himself.

"Mr and Mrs Granger decided to drive to Little Whinging in the morning. I will try to get everyone from the Order here as early as possible and then firecall Albus to come through. I actually wanted to wait for Arthur, so that he could send the messages via Patronus, but now that you are here and… you know my Patronus is not corporeal… would you?" She looked at him with a pained expression.

Molly was a very powerful witch and her Patronus was more than able to drive away several Dementors, but despite this she never had managed to produce a corporeal one, which made sending messages with it impossible.

Remus knew that she was embarrassed about it and simply send her a small smile and nodded.

"Of course." He emptied his cup and slit his wand out of his sleeve.

Molly squeezed his hand a second time and then stood up. "I will prepare breakfast and then wake everyone up."

 _I wish you a long and happy life. Find someone you can share it with, Sirius would have wanted that for you._

 _Goodbye Moony._

 _Love, Harry._

* * *

Albus Dumbledore had a rather tiring morning - or rather night, as he didn't go to bed at all. He went through his notes from the Wizengamot meeting and watched his memory of it in his Pensieve.

He wasn't sure what he was hoping to find. A sign that the Tom Riddle before them had been an imposter? That he was as lost in soul, mind and magic as before? That he was sane?

Everything pointed to the fact that Tom Riddle really was who he said he was and that he was sane again.

Albus wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not.

Then he had tried to figure out the method Harry had used to give Tom his soul pieces back. He had long ago removed all the books about the darkest arts of soul magic from the Hogwarts Library and he had acquired every book about this brand of magic he could find since he had the suspicion what Tom had done.

All the books agreed that a Horcrux could either be destroyed- and with it the soul piece stored in whatever was used as a container- or freed by the maker - by feeling true, soulful remorse, which would bring back the soul piece and merge it with the original soul.

He was sure that in the state Tom had been in he would never have had the capacity to feel remorse, and Harry had been at his family's place since the beginning of summer, therefore he couldn't have destroyed the Horcruxes. He hadn't left the house, Albus was sure of it.

So, how had he done it?

All in all, Harry was the main reason Albus Dumbledore was wide awake.

He had taken his time and looked at his own memories about Harry over the night, and the realization he had after reading the letter was only confirmed. He had failed the boy. Failed him like he never wanted to fail another human again. But he had done it.

 _You are a great wizard, but you are still human, and humans make mistakes._

How true those words were.

But he hadn't looked at his memories only to see where he had gone wrong. No, he had tried to find a hint of what Harry was planning.

He didn't want to come back to Hogwarts, so where would he go? He was sure he wouldn't simply stay at the Dursleys.

That was also a bitter potion to swallow. The signs had all been there, and if he was true to himself, he wasn't sure if he simply didn't see them or didn't want to see them. He had known that Harry wasn't happy with the Dursleys, but what was a cold and dismissive relationship with his relatives against being vulnerable to Tom and his Death Eaters?

But it seemed Harry's relationship with the Dursleys wasn't simply dismissive.

That was his failure, too. The fault rested solely on his shoulders and Albus knew it. Knew it and contributed to the mistreatment of an already hurt child. His keeping secrets hadn't made the situation easier.

How could he have wanted to spare him the pain and responsibility of the prophecy and everything related to it for as long as possible, while ignoring exactly what caused pain and mistrust?

How could he have expected him to behave like an adult while never treating him like one?

He knew how. He had cared too much for Harry, for his happiness and peace of mind. Had tried to orchestrate a plan in which Harry would survive. And because he had feared so much for Harry's life, he hadn't dared to seek help to find a solution to the Horcrux problem. He'd feared that all his carefully laid out plans to ensure that Harry would live, would crumble to dust if the wrong people got wind of something.

All this while completely losing sight of the actual person he did this for – Harry.

He had justified his actions with the reasoning that everything would have been too heavy a burden. He had wanted to shelter this incredible child, this brave young man.

But he had also disregarded the bright and independent mind and spirit of said young man.

Harry was right not to forgive him, to not trust him anymore.

Despite this, Albus would do anything to help Harry. He wouldn't like it, would perhaps resent him for it, but he would get the help and support he needed.

Therefore, Albus was contemplating if someone at the Burrow could be already awake. He wanted to speak with young Ronald. Or perhaps he should first apparate to Miss Granger. Or should he wait till the Order meeting later, where a lot of the Weasley family would be there?

He needed their input and the insight they had of Harry. There were a lot of things he didn't say in his letter. And perhaps, only perhaps, he had written to his friends, mentioned what he did and what he had planned to do next. As far as Albus knew Harry was sharing with them nearly everything.

Before he could come to a decision, the door to his office was torn open and a rather agitated looking Minerva was walking in – in her hand a piece of parchment.

Like always, she didn't waste time with courtesies. "Albus, I got a rather disturbing letter from Mr Potter. In what trouble did he manage to get now?"

Albus let out the breath he had been holding and sat down heavily in his chair. There it was, the confirmation that Harry had written more letters. But to Minerva? Why? To whom else had he written letters?

It dawned him that they should hold the Order meeting as early as possible. If Minerva got a letter from the young man, then he definitely had written to his friends, perhaps even Arthur, Molly and Remus.

Remus…

He should have talked with Remus immediately; he was the last connection to Harry's parents and his godfather, and Albus had the impression they had built an uncle-nephew relationship while residing at Grimmauld Place.

"What… what did he write?" His voice remained steady despite his increasing worry.

"He thanked me." Was the clipped answer.

Albus blinked. "He did what?"

"He thanked me, Albus. Are you going deaf?" Minerva scrutinised. "Harry Potter sent me a thank-you letter. He has never before sent me a letter, and now this?!" She waved it in front of him.

"And what did he thank you for?"

At least it didn't sound as if he had told Minerva about the soul pieces. Despite coming to the realization that his habit of keeping secrets had created some of the problems, he still didn't want it to be known by many people that Tom had created Horcruxes. It was dangerous knowledge.

"He thanked me for looking out for him, for being in his corner as he phrased it, for the Nimbus I bought him in his first year and the biscuits." Her eyes were on words written on the parchment in her hands.

"Biscuits?" Albus was confused. What had biscuits to do with everything?

Her gaze snapped to him and she looked even more flustered than before. "Nothing you have to know of. Why would Harry send me such a letter? And why is he saying that he wanted to say it while he has the chance?"

Albus sat up straighter. "That's what he said? What else?"

Minerva slammed her hands down on his desk in frustration. "That's not important! What is important is that _Harry Potter_ had the need to write me a thank you letter, which sounds a lot like a Goodbye letter, telling me that if I wanted to know what it is all about, I should talk to _you_! And why did I get a Patronus message from Remus to come as early to the Burrow as possible?" She pointed accusingly at him and hissed, sounding frightening like her Animagus counterpart. "What did you do _Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_!"

He sighed and met her angry and accusing stare with as much calm as he could muster, which wasn't a lot, his Deputy Headmistress was a formidable and frightening witch - especially when she was angry. "Sit down and let me explain."

She huffed, crossed her arms in front of her chest but did take the seat. "I will not move until you tell me what is going on. All these secrets you are keeping –"

He didn't hear what Minerva thought about this particular habit of him as the floo flared and the head of Molly Weasley appeared in the green flames.

"Albus –" Molly began, only to stop when she saw Minerva. "Ah Minerva, good morning. Did you get Remus message?"

Minerva nodded. "I just confronted Albus on a letter I got from Mister Potter and then I wanted to floo to you."

The green flames made it hard to decipher Molly's expression, but he was sure he saw a glimmer of worry and then determination in her eyes.

"That's actually perfect Minerva. Harry's letters are the main reason we wanted to hold the meeting now. Everyone arrived already, I only wanted to inform Albus that he should come through now."

"Letters? What letters? More than one?" Minerva's voice rose.

Molly nodded before Albus could even open his mouth. "He wrote letters to all of us. They worry us immensely, but before we take action, we wanted to talk with everyone. See who else got one and what they contained to get a better picture."

Minerva stood up. "Perfect. Molly step aside, I will come through immediately."

Molly's head disappeared. Minerva took a pinch of floo powder, threw it into the fireplace and stepped into the flames. Before she shouted out her destination, she looked at him.

"Don't dawdle Albus, we will not wait for you. The Burrow!" Then she was gone in a swirl of green flames.

With an increasing feeling of dread, Albus followed.

* * *

The kitchen of the Burrow was crowded, not only with the Order, but also the whole Weasley clan and Hermione. Molly had prepared tea and huge amounts of toast, scrambled eggs and bacon and then went to call Albus.

Arthur was watching the people who had gathered in his kitchen despite the early hour. Tonks was talking with Alastor, Remus and Kingsley and trying not to spill her tea - without success - Moody's magical eye rolled in his socket in disapproval. Doge was talking animatedly with Diggle, who nodded along vigorously, sending his hat flying.

Several people were missing. Mundungus, of which Arthur was actually glad, he never liked having the man in his house; Severus, which wasn't anything unusual - due to his… activities, he only attended the meetings he could without jeopardizing his safety and position. The last one missing from the assembly was Hagrid, but that also wasn't usual. Everyone else was here.

Hestia had immediately upon arriving, sat down and put her head on the table, where she still was, snoring loudly, her black hair all over the place. The young witch had come straight from her night shift as a Hit Witch.

Arthur glanced at his children and Hermione, all huddled together, whispering. He somehow knew they were here to stand their ground. He knew that look on their faces and normally he would have been concerned that they were _all_ pulling on one string as it seemed, but he had gotten a letter from Harry, too.

 _Dear Mr Weasley_

 _I am sure that Mrs Weasley will share with you what I wrote in my letter to her. Nevertheless, I wanted to thank you personally._

 _Thank you for opening your home to me._

Molly had shared with him yesterday evening what was written in hers, would have even let him read it if he had wanted. He hadn't, didn't need to.

 _Thank you for including me in your family._

He knew what the boy had written, and his heart had grown heavy.

 _Thank you for treating me like I was one more Weasley child, but without the trademark red hair._

And the expression his wife had worn this morning told him everything he needed to know. They would go to Harry and get him today, whatever Albus Dumbledore would say against it. And he could only agree, after everything they went through, everything that had happened, Harry was part of the Weasley family, and it was time that they remembered and acted on it.

 _Thank you for being warm and welcome and showing me what a family should and could be._

He knew about the conflict in Molly. He had been with her when they found her brother's bodies. He knew her fear of losing someone else.

Nevertheless, Harry was in a similar situation. He had lost his godfather, and then he was left alone in _that_ house. Arthur hadn't agreed with Albus on sending Harry to his Muggle relatives, but the old Headmaster hadn't been up for discussion, so he had acted in the only way he thought he could at that moment, and surprisingly Alastor had acted along with him.

He hoped that the brief talk they had with Harry's uncle had made the situation at least a little bit more bearable, but the tone of the letter suggested otherwise. Why, oh why, hadn't he acted against Albus' orders?

He knew why. He had believed in Albus Dumbledore, had believed that the man had Harry's best interest in mind, had only seen the danger to _Harry Potter_ , the boy-who-lived. At this moment he had been guilty of the fact so many other people were guilty of – not seeing the boy Harry. That made one sentence in Harry's letter especially bitter.

 _Thank you for only seeing a boy. It meant the world to me, that you were more interested in my knowledge of everything muggle, than in me being the boy who lived._

For the most part, it never had been a problem to just see the child in front of him, but now in these dark times he had fallen into the same trap it seemed Albus had fallen into. The boy who lived, the only hope they had to stop You-Know-Who had to be protected at every cost, seemingly at the cost of the wellbeing of the actual boy.

The guilt made him nauseous.

He was brought out of his thoughts when he heard voices coming from the living room and shortly after Molly entered the kitchen, Minerva behind her.

"Albus?" He enquired.

Minerva sat down and poured herself a cup of tea. "He should be directly behind us."

The moment she said it, he heard the floo flare in the living room and only seconds later, Albus Dumbledore stepped into the cramped kitchen, his gaze wandering over all the people present, who fell silent at his entry.

"I see that everyone is present. I understand that we have important things to discuss with everything that has happened, but why couldn't it wait till later, when we already had an Order meeting scheduled?" He looked rather disapprovingly at Molly, who only harrumphed.

"Albus, they had the feeling that we shouldn't wait longer and therefore contacted everyone to meet as early as possible. It doesn't matter who decided it, we have far more important matters to talk about." Minerva cut in.

Albus sighed. "You are right. So…"

But before he could say anything else, Molly put a cup of tea in front of him and said: "Sit down Albus and listen."

Startled, he just did it and looked expectantly at her. Nobody had taken that tone with him in a long time, besides Minerva.

Arthur discreetly nudged Hestia under the table to wake her up - which she did, startled and still half asleep - while all the others looked at Molly. Then he leaned back, content to let his wife take control. She was much better with confrontation.

"As I already said when I firecalled you, a lot of people in this room got a letter from Harry. And they all contain 'thank you' and 'goodbye'. We are worried, no… we are beyond worried, but we wanted at least talk with everyone before we all storm to Surrey to get him."

Albus took that in and then looked around and Arthur saw the normally present twinkle in his eyes disappear as the took in all the nods from the people who got letters.

Molly continued. "He talked about very serious matters in these letters and some of them need to be cleared, and perhaps this should wait till later. But still… how could you, _Albus_!"

As her voice grew in volume, Arthur saw his children all trying to hide a grin despite the heavy situation. Yes, Albus was in for one of Molly's scoldings. His wife didn't disappoint in that regard and continued without getting Albus the chance to answer.

" _You_ left him there, not only as a baby, but right after he lost his godfather! And told him about a prophecy where he apparently was either to become a murderer or be murdered. Are you _insane_?"

"Molly, dear..." Albus tried to placate her.

"Don't _Molly, dear_ me!" She screeched, having reached her maximum scolding volume. " _He is a child,_ not a chess piece! Did you even consider for one moment what it would do to him? And then to send him back to his… relatives!" She spat out the last part.

"You, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, have a lot to answer for!" She pointed accusingly at him.

"I only did what I thought was best." Albus managed to put in, though he sounded subdued, nearly unsure.

Arthur saw the twins shudder and the rest of his children looking wide eyed at the old wizard, all of them with the same disbelieving expression, and not only because of _what_ he said, but also that Albus dared to say it. He had to agree with them, that certainly was a mistake. If Molly had even an ounce of Dragon blood in her, she would have been spitting fire now.

" _What was best?!_ " She screamed. "Did you even consider that it could break him?"

The room fell silent, which led to Ron's whisper being heard from all of them. "Apparently it did."

Albus looked stricken, and Molly just briefly looked at her son, her eyes growing soft, then she turned to Albus again. Standing there at their kitchen table, her red hair waving around her face like flames, her eyes ablaze while she loomed over one of the greatest wizards in Britain, Arthur was reminded of exactly why he had fallen in love with her, all those years ago.

"Harry is a teenager, a child like anyone else. You can't just play with his life, his wellbeing like that. You can't just withhold important information concerning him and then be surprised when he doesn't act as you want." Molly's voice rang through the kitchen, her tone harsh. Arthur could have stopped her before she exploded, but somehow, he thought certain things had to be said.

"Harry has always fared better when he had all the information." Hermione looked surprised at the people staring at her, as if she hadn't wanted to say that. Arthur had to agree with her.

 _And thank you for understanding that sometimes, even if others thought me too young, you just knew that I wasn't, and that it was better if I knew than keeping me in the dark. Even if, in the end, Sirius never really was a threat to me._

Molly looked guilty for a moment, as she herself had thought Harry too young to know certain information more than once. They all had made mistakes. But then she recovered her determined expression and stared accusingly at Albus again.

"This wonderful boy is blaming himself for his godfather's death, because he didn't know You-Know-Who could send him false visions. And who was responsible for keeping this information from him?" Her tone had reached a level her family had heard only a few times, once when the twins nearly tricked Ron into swearing an Unbreakable Vow as a child.

Arthur saw Kingsley discreetly cover his ears at Molly's bellowing and he was sure that the ears Tonks had grown in the last minute where muting the screaming. His children just watched stoically as their mother tore into the Headmaster.

"Molly, you must see…" Albus tried again. Everyone in the room winced.

"What?! What must I see?" The expression on her face was murderous and Arthur knew only the small speck of respect she had left for the man in front of her, prevented her hexing him into next week.

"That Harry is your little soldier? That his wellbeing and mental health is second to his role in the war? That he is nothing compared to the 'greater good'?"

Arthur had never seen the great Albus Dumbledore flinch, and before today he would have thought that nothing could shake their leader. Now, with a furious Molly Weasley hissing his favourite phrase in his face, he certainly _did_ flinch.

And he never had thought to see Albus speechless.

He was fiercely proud of his wife and considered for a moment if the war would have ended earlier if they simply had set Molly on You-know-Who.

Minerva laid a hand on Molly's arm and spoke calmly, but briskly. "We can throw around accusations later. Let us talk briefly about these letters and then see what needs to be done."

Molly breathed heavily but nodded and sat down, cradling her own cup of tea.

"Perhaps everyone who got a letter, should summarise what it contains and the information you think is necessary." Arthur suggested. The rustling of parchment was heard as they all got their letters out and it didn't surprise anyone that Albus was holding one, too.

"I will start." Arthur took a deep breath and glanced at the sentences that had been haunting him since he first read them.

 _Just… thank you for being there when my own father couldn't._

 _I am eternally grateful that Ron decided to sit with me on the train all those years ago._

 _I will miss you all._

 _With love,_

 _Harry Potter._

For the next hour they all revealed the most important information from their letters.

* * *

They hadn't wanted to acknowledge it, not even after Hestia, who had several cups of strong tea and a lot of sugar to be awake enough to listen, had pointed it out.

"For me, this sounds like he doesn't want to live anymore. And if he or his scar is really part of this safety net You-Know-Who built, I can only imagine that he wants to cut his connection off. He says it clearly that the snake needs to be killed to destroy the anchor, whatever it is." She looked around curiously, but none of the people who knew wanted to reveal that particular piece of information.

Arthur wasn't completely sure what it was but judging by the grim expression in Bill's face he knew it was nothing good. His son had seen all kinds of the darkest arts of magic in his function of a cursebreaker for Gringotts. Perhaps it was better that even in the Order only a few people really knew what You-Know-Who had done to prevent is ultimate death.

"And if the snake needs to be killed to achieve this, I don't see how Harry could be different." She sighed. "And his letters certainly give enough hints that he is saying goodbye to all the people who matter to him."

Nobody really wanted to believe it. Hestia didn't know Harry personally, had never spoken with the boy, but they couldn't deny what she had put together from all of the letters.

Arthur never would have considered that Harry would even think about doing something that drastic, but when he looked to Ron and Hermione, his best friends, the expression in their eyes told him everything. They had come to the same conclusion.

The horrible, horrible truth changed the atmosphere to something dark and oppressive.

Albus had been very quiet during the discussion, but he looked older and sadder and more heavily loaded with guilt as Arthur had never seen him.

"Then it is clear what we have to do now, isn't it?" It was Ron who broke the silence in the kitchen and every head turned to him.

"We apparate now to Privet Drive and hope that Harry didn't go through with it yet." His voice was steady, but he looked grim, and Arthur prayed to Merlin and all the gods he knew of, even to some muggle ones, that they wouldn't be too late. He wasn't sure if his youngest son would survive it.

Everyone nodded and Albus stood from his seat, every year of his one hundred and fifteen years were visible in the way he moved.

"Then let's proceed."

And they went, all of them. The younger ones who couldn't apparate on their own were taken by someone older. When they arrived at the edge of the ward down the street of Nr 4, they realized to their surprise that they weren't the only group of people there.

* * *

 **AN:** Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think.

First published: 4th of September 2019


	17. Breathe no more

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or anything in the HP Universe.

 **WARNING (!seriously!):** In this chapter is a very explicit **suicide** scene. If this a **TRIGGER** for you, just stop reading at: _Coming out of his mindscape Harry_ and start again after the two rows of ... and scene chance line and with _"Dumbledore." Marvolo nodded to his old transfiguration teacher._ Then you will have skipped the actual scene.

 **AN:** Thank you all for your reviews and support. Thanks to everyone who followed, favoured and reviewed. subscribed, bookmarked and commented. And for all the kudos!

So, we are finally here, at the climax, at the scenes which compelled me to start writing this in the first place.

Harry's action in here don't reflect what I feel on the matter of suicide. I was in a seriously dark place two years ago myself, but I had help, I crawled out of the black hole before it was too late. Mental illnesses are a serious matter. So, if anyone of you feels like to hurt himself, feels like to end it all, please please seek help. I beg you. Every last one of us is important and precious, everyone deserves a happy life. There is no shame in not managing on your own (I certainly didn't), in needing help. Talk to someone, a friend, family, a professional therapist. Talking helps, even of you feel like it is going in circles, even if you think it doesn't help at that point. Just, think before you act, you can never undo it.

The chapter's title is from my favourite Evanescence song 'Breathe no more' (the live version from the Album 'Anywhere but Home') it is also the song I had on eternal repeat while writing Harry's scenes.

This chapter is beta'ed by the brilliant **a-bit-of-madness** , many thanks and hugs to her.

 **On with the story.**

* * *

 **Chapter 17: Breathe no more**

Severus' voice had broken several times during his report and not only because of physical reasons. The shock he felt since he discovered what was hidden behind that oath in Draco's mind was mirrored briefly in his Lord's eyes, but the man's overall expression never changed.

Severus was too drained, too tired and too shocked to have the same control in the moment.

At first, he had thought Potter had played a prank on his godson, still thought – _hoped_ – that it was a prank if not for the _Truth and Oath_ Parchment. Not even a _Potter_ could write such an elaborate lie on that kind of parchment.

Then he had been furious that the selfish arrogant boy had drawn his godson into this mess. He was fairly sure before he even cast _Legilimence_ that Draco was the backup person Potter had chosen. He had put Draco in a dangerous position because of it. Despite Lord Slytherin's newfound sanity, Severus was sure that he would prefer that less people knew of his Horcruxes.

Then what the letter contained, what it _meant_ had become clear to him.

The whole content together with Severus' own memories of some of the happenings the boy described, memories he saw now in a different light, made him physically ill and if it was possible to throw up while being in the mind of another person Severus would have done that.

He had done that the moment he had been fully awake again.

The rather severe headache he still had was a welcome distraction from the emotions swimming in him, too many to differentiate them. It felt like his whole life, everything he believed to be true, everything he believed of himself, had been turned over his head.

He had always been rather proud of his iron control of his emotions (at least if nobody from the Potter family was involved) and he had prided himself as a Wizard who could see behind the façade and masks people showed in various degrees, hear their lies and see them for what they were. As a spy, he had needed to be observant without judging what he saw, but also be able to draw conclusions on logic. He had thought he had used the same set of skills in every aspect of his life.

Yes, he had made mistakes as an angry and arrogant young man and yes, he had been eaten by guilt for it for years now and knew himself that he was cold, surly and bitter. He knew of his misgivings, or so he thought.

He knew he was a vindictive man, malicious even, he knew of the deep and dark pool of rage and hatred in himself. He had been beaten down by the world for his whole life, paying for his mistakes, trying to atone and knew that he never could, and had never found a way to live with it.

But despite everything else, he still had been proud of his intelligence, his analytical mind, his eye for detail and his observational skills. How then, could he have been so blind?

He had thought himself justified in his behaviour against the child of James bloody Potter. He had happily played the cruel teacher who loathed the boy, as in his eyes the child had turned out exactly as he believed he would, as spoiled and arrogant as his father.

When had what started as a way to keep his spy cover if needed, turned into reality? He never wanted to be cruel to children who already had experienced the cruelty the world could hold.

Had his hate for everything Potter and the guilt he still felt because of his role in the death of one of his best and only friends in the world, made him blind to such an extent? How could he have overlooked the signs?

No matter how efficient the child was at hiding them, there had to be some. Or was he lying after all? On _Truth and Oath_ Parchment? Not likely.

He briefly closed his eyes and went through several memories regarding the boy. What he found made him nauseous. Yes, there had been signs, and if Severus had seen them in any other child he would have been alarmed. He had wilfully pushed aside what normally would draw concern because it had been _Potter,_ had attributed suspicious behaviour to arrogance and foolish Gryffindor behaviour.

He had happily pushed them aside, interpreted them in a way that pleased him and fitted to his own image of the boy and felt righteous in his behaviour to teach the 'spoiled, arrogant Gryffindor' some manners.

Oh, Merlin and Morgana, Potter had been right, he _had_ been a bully to the child, an already hurt and abused child.

Severus did throw up – again.

Someone vanished the mess, he hoped it was one of the house-elves and not the man still sitting beside him.

He remembered the unease when he had read the boy's letters, which had simply shoved aside and hadn't thought about anymore.

His mind still had problems linking what he had learned about the boy with the image he had of him for the last five years.

He felt like he had been sleepwalking or looked in a dream for too long and now someone had woken him up in the roughest way possible. This rude awakening now, was nobody's fault but his own.

But he couldn't analyse his guilt and feelings now. His own mindset wasn't important. Despite that it was a Potter – and Severus was sure that beside everything he knew now, he still would never like the boy, and that it still didn't feel _right_ \- there was an abused child.

And if he thought of him simply as a child and put the hated family name aside, he was sure he would manage to treat him in at least a neutral kind of way, anything else wouldn't help in this situation.

Severus understood now – and marvelled a little bit about it – that the foolish, brazen and defiant Gryffindor had been a front, a mask of a child full of mistrust of the adults in his life.

A child in dire need of help.

A child who thought to end his own life in parts because of hopelessness and obligation to do the right thing, if you could call it that.

That was another thing he had to think about later. How could Potter grow up even worse than Severus himself and still be a good person at his core? How was it that he was not bitter and angry at the world?

 _Oh, Lily…_

He shoved the thoughts and emotions behind his strongest Occlumency shields, even if it increased his headache by tenfold, and looked at his Lord.

They had a child to rescue.

He would have time later to sort through his thoughts, emotions and memories, if he ever found the strength to do it.

Severus glanced at his Lord - and tried not be disturbed by how easy it was for him to think of him as his Lord again and as Lord Slytherin instead of the Dark Lord - who didn't look at him. Who looked to be as far away and as deep in thought as Severus had been.

"My Lord? What would you want us to do?"

Red eyes met his. "The Muggles can't be trusted with the care of the boy; he never should have gone to them. Dumbledore should have _never_ left him there."

There was an anger in his voice Severus had never heard before. Not the unhinged rage they all had been afraid to be at the end of it, as it always had meant a round of Cruciatus, not even the cold anger he had displayed sometimes when he had displayed a short moment of not complete insanity.

He remembered the stories from Lucius's father that Tom Riddle had in one or two occasions made his point of view on Muggles and magical children clear. The fury in the man's voice showed that he hadn't changed in this regard.

"And his attempt on giving you the soul piece back?" Severus carefully enquired.

"I have to talk it over with him. If he really wants to get rid of it… We can't watch him all the time. I have to research to see if there is another method to free it of a living container. Perhaps if he saw that I am not as… insane and volatile as before, he would be willing to keep it. I am not even sure what effects a Horcrux has on a person." He sighed, the anger leaving his voice. "But that isn't important now. We can still think about it after we get the boy."

"You want to bring him here?" Severus was a little surprised and wasn't sure if he followed, but then his mind wasn't completely up to his usual level.

"Yes. Dumbledore can't be trusted with my Horcrux; he would kill the boy himself if he thought it would help to actually get rid of me. And the people in his merry little band would just simply bring him to the old man. I can't bring him to Riddle Manor, it is not really habitable at the moment. At Malfoy Manor he will be safe behind powerful wards, will have a companion in young Mr Malfoy –" At that Severus had to choke, which got him an incredulous look." – and there will be sensible adults."

"My Lord, Draco and Mr Potter are… as far from being simple amicable acquaintances as possible."

"I know this, Severus. But Potter's decision to use Lucius' boy as a backup… and the state you found Mr Malfoy in; I would assume, at least from Mr Malfoy's, side it isn't blatant hatred anymore."

Severus mulled over this shortly and had to agree. Draco had wanted to find a way to rescue Potter and there had been some things in his godson's mind… he hadn't seen much aside from the contents of the letter, but he had got a glimpse on Draco's feelings, reactions and thoughts about it. It didn't seem as Draco was hating Potter as strongly as last year suggested. Perhaps there was hope for them.

A movement beside him brought him out of his thoughts.

"Now then, Severus, if you are strong enough, I would appreciate if you would accompany me. I will warn Lucius and Narcissa that they will have a guest with the need of medical help shortly."

Severus carefully swung his legs out of the bed and tested them. Good, it seemed the restorative potion he had taken had reached its full effect. Now only the headaches remained, of which he couldn't do anything against. If he took another potion now, his body would be overloaded with it. That would lead to negative side-effects and none of the desired effects. He could live with the headaches; he certainly had experienced worse pain in his life.

Taking his wand from the bedside table he slowly but steadily followed his Lord out of the room.

* * *

Harry woke slowly to a beak nibbling at his ear. He groaned and turned around. The protesting shriek of Hedwig, who had to flap her wings to be not thrown off Harry and the bed, woke him up completely. He blinked at his owl, who was sitting on the headboard and smiled.

"Morning Hedwig." He yawned. "Had a good flight? You were really fast."

She hooted and ruffled her feathers.

"Breakfast?" Harry asked, while moving to get the rest of the food he had stored away out from under the bed. Theoretically it wasn't necessary to do that when the Dursleys weren't here, but habits die hard. His stomach rumbled and he had the brief thought that it wasn't important if he ate today or not, but then he shrugged and savoured his food, while Hedwig nibbled at the pie pieces, he held out for her.

They sat like this for a while.

Washing the last crumps down with water, he sighed and stood up.

"You know, I have a last letter for you to deliver. But if you are tired, it can wait." Harry hoped she would want to deliver the letters immediately. He had long thought about if he wanted to have Hedwig here or not, but in the end decided it would be too cruel. His owl was very intelligent, and he had no doubt she would understand what happened.

Hedwig looked disgruntled at him – or as disgruntled as an owl could look - but held her leg out for him.

Harry let out a small sigh of relief and retrieved the last letter. Hedwig held still while he tied it to her leg, then nibbled at his ear again and shortly combed through his bird's nest of hair. He carried her to the window and watched her as she easily slipped through the bars and took flight. He remained by the window till his beautiful snowy owl had disappeared.

It was early morning; the sun barely had climbed over the horizon. Harry watched as the sky became slowly brighter, breathing in the fresh morning air.

As peaceful as the morning appeared, Harry somehow felt disconnected from his surroundings. He wasn't really afraid – or was he? He wasn't sure, his emotions were a mess.

He knew what he had decided to do, had laid all the reasons down why he would do. He even had thought over all the reasons why he shouldn't do it. It wasn't a spontaneous, rash decision. He just felt it was the right decision, at least for him.

Why did he feel so… wrong now that he finally would go through with it?

Trying to understand and make sense out of his feelings, he settled down on the floor and dived into his mindscape. The cosy room filled with shelves full of boxes and books and the comfy armchair was the same as always.

He turned and took it all in. These boxes and books held everything that made up _Harry_ , all the bad things, the good things. Everything.

Without really thinking about it, Harry stepped up to one shelf and picked up the box containing the Horcrux.

Settling into the armchair, he opened it. The familiar mass of red and green, not entirely solid but clearly not mist, swirled around the midnight black lightning bolt wound. Only two strings of red were left, the one connecting him with the last other Horcrux, Nagini, and a thick one leading to Tom Riddle.

Harry stared for a long time at the thing which had defined his whole life, without him knowing for the most part, and now defined his death.

The moment he had become a Horcrux he had been marked for death; it was inevitable.

If there were a way to get rid of it, either by destroying or sending it back to its owner without him dying, would he try it?

But there wasn't, not without involving someone else, not without giving important decisions in his life away _again_ , so the point was moot. It had to be done. And even if there was another way, what could life offer him? There was nothing more for him. He had suffered enough, grieved enough, lost enough. He simply had nothing more to give.

He was tired. Tired of the manipulations, tired of the expectations, tired of being told what to do, who to be. Was he the boy who lived? Was he the deranged liar the Prophet had painted him to be the last year? Was he the arrogant troublemaker Snape saw in him? Was he James Potter's son? Lily' Potter's son? The chosen one? Dumbledore's pawn? Why couldn't he simply be Harry?

He didn't even know who he was anymore. And he found no energy in himself to try to find out.

Harry let out a long breath. So, that was it.

* * *

Narcissa had insisted on accompanying them, had argued with them that somebody else with knowledge of at least basic healing spells to have with them would be prudent. Lucius had wanted to, but as he still was an Azkaban escapee that was simply not practical, and somebody should be there in case Draco woke up.

Neither mentioned they felt they owed Potter a debt, and that they were horrified and angered, for this was a magical child, despite the boy's age, something precious.

It was a gamble to apparate, as none of them ever had been there and therefore they didn't have a very clear and detailed picture of their destination point, which was dangerous in Apparition. But Severus could easily imagine the home _Petunia Evans_ had chosen, and therefore would be the one to apparate them, while all three together firmly fixed the address in their mind. Together with how skilled and powerful all three were as witches and wizards, they were confident they would manage without splinching.

Taking a deep breath, they all focused. Narcissa had gripped his left arm, while Lord Slytherin had an iron grip on his right one, then Severus spun, they felt the typical feeling of being squeezed through a keyhole, then they appeared on an unassuming street, obviously muggle.

They looked around and saw the street sign 'Privet Drive' to their relief, but there weren't anywhere near Number four, which wasn't a surprise as Apparition tended to be unspecific if your picture of the destination wasn't completely clear and detailed.

Without a word to each other they hurried along the street, the correct house only a few buildings further down when Severus felt like he walked into a wall. He knew instantly what it was and that they were at the right place.

Narcissa and Lord Slytherin stopped beside him.

"What is this?" The red eyed man murmured while tracing the invisible barrier before them.

"The blood wards the Headmaster put around the premises." He frowned, sliding his own wand out of his sleeve and prodding the barrier. "Theoretically it should prevent individuals who harbour malicious intent against the boy from crossing."

"But we want to rescue the boy, not harm him." Narcissa crossed her arms and glared at the wards, as if willing to part before her on her will alone.

They were silent for a moment, while Severus and Lord Slytherin cast spells and analysed the wards. Albus had explained the blood wards to Severus, and he had been sure that they could cross them without problems as they had indeed no ill intent towards the boy, quite the contrary.

If it was based on dark magic, then Lupin would never have been able to step on the premises, as he was a Dark Creature, but Severus knew Lupin had been one of the people who retrieved the boy last summer. The resistance they met could not be based on this and the barrier should let them through.

But they were all three prevented from doing so. So, what was the reason?

Frowning he cast another spell, which made the barrier before them light up, and mulled over everything he knew about the kind of Blood Wards Albus had described he had casted. Then it hit him.

"Oh, Merlin…"

"You know what the problem is Severus?" Lord Slytherin asked.

But before Severus could answer and explain, they heard several loud pops and cracks behind them. They whirled around, and despite realizing instantly who had appeared on the Muggle street Severus wand joined his Lord at pointing at Albus Dumbledore and his whole damn Order of Phoenix and – Severus blinked – it seemed the whole brood of the Weasley family with Hermione Granger.

It would make his alliances clear, but Severus could only think about the fact that Albus Dumbledore was capable of sacrificing a child to try and destroy a Dark Lord and he was sure that he couldn't allow that, not with the life of Lily's child on the line, a child who could very well take the matter in his own hands this very moment. They had no time to deal with the Headmaster.

The eyes of said man found his own and Severus was surprised by the sadness and guilt they contained; the man's typical twinkle entirely absent.

* * *

Coming out of his mindscape Harry was calm and sure about what he would do. He felt settled. Now all that was left was the thing itself: dying.

He actually looked forward to it, morbid as it was, even as a little fear remained. Would it hurt? He remembered the burning pain when he was dying from the Basilisk poison in the Chamber of Secrets years ago. Would this hurt like that? He shuddered, but then he also remembered how peaceful he had felt, till today he didn't know if that had been based on the presence of Fawkes or that he really had nearly died.

But what was a little pain? His whole life had been filled with one kind of pain or another.

Living had been hard, dying should be relatively easy.

And he would finally be able to rest. He would be free of the guilt, the tiredness, the soul deep feeling of being lost, free of everything. He hoped to see his parents and Sirius again, he hoped that death would be as peaceful as he imagined.

He hoped everyone would forgive him.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Harry thought of his parents, of Sirius and Remus, of his friends, of Hedwig, of Hogwarts.

When he opened his eyes again, he wasn't afraid anymore.

Opening the drawer on his desk, he brought out three things. A letter addressed to Sirius, which he placed in the middle of the desk, the shard of the mirror his godfather had given him and the razor blade he had nicked from the bathroom a while ago.

Settling on the floor again, leaning back against his bed, he put the piece of mirror in front of him and looked at the small piece of metal in his hand.

Taking a deep breath again, thinking of the people he would finally see, Harry brought the blade to his left wrist, pressed down on his skin and without further hesitation and a steady hand made a deep and long cut down his inner forearm.

It definitely hurt, the pain first sharp and then burning, but it was insignificant in the face of Harry's resolve.

The blood immediately started to stream, dark red on his pale skin. The sharp metallic scent filled his nose.

He shifted the blade from his right to his left hand. The cut he made down his right arm starting at his wrist wasn't as straight as the other one, but it was long and deep, and Harry watched fascinated by how fast the blood was flowing out of his body.

He already felt more tired, the energy leaving his body alongside his blood, which was starting to pool under and around him, an almost beautiful vibrant red on the dark wooden floor.

Placing his arms on his thighs, ignoring the wetness soaking into his trousers, Harry looked at the piece of mirror, surrounded by red now. His mind was on Sirius and his parents.

He slowed his breath.

In. Out.

His heartbeat loud in his ears.

In. Out.

His arms started to go numb.

In. Out.

The burning from the cuts gone.

In. Out.

His vision went foggy.

In. Out.

He managed to focus on the mirror for a moment and saw his own green eyes in it, his mother's eyes.

In. Out.

His whole body felt heavy and numb now.

In. Out.

He felt drowsy, so drowsy.

In. Out.

His breathing slowed even further.

In.

His mind felt sluggish and his thoughts were slowing.

Out.

He felt removed from his body, like he was floating above it.

In.

His body? Did he have one? Should he have one? Where was it?

Out.

The thoughts slipped away.

In.

His vision went darker.

Out.

And darker…

In.

Darkness.

Out.

…

…

* * *

"Dumbledore." Marvolo nodded to his old transfiguration teacher stiffly. His voice seemed to wake the group before him as they all startled and brought their wands up to point at him. Narcissa beside him had her wand out but held it seemingly relaxed at her side, while Severus was pointing at the Headmaster.

"Tom." Dumbledore answered, calmly.

Marvolo registered with interest the different reactions to his identity, they certainly had heard from Dumbledore his previous name. The mother of the ginger family accompanying Dumbledore, reacted instantly, shoving her children behind her and taking a stance in front of them with her husband, despite that some of them were clearly off age. They didn't even seem to register their mother's action; all of their attention and their wands were on him now. Surprise, then wariness and suspicion in all of their expressions.

The redheaded girl in the brood was the only one who didn't look surprised at his identity. Her eyes narrowed in a mixture of anger and fear. Interesting, he would have to ask Severus if he knew why this young girl seemed to know the face of Tom Riddle.

"Lord Marvolo Slytherin, actually." He reminded Dumbledore, who nodded shortly in agreement.

"Forgive me, Lord Slytherin, but if you are as old as me and saw so many young people coming through the halls of Hogwarts, they always will be the young students in your mind, despite them growing older, changing names, appearances or coming back from the bodiless existence of a wraith."

The mother of the ginger family, Weasleys he presumed, looked between Dumbledore and himself in fury. She took a step forward as if to interrupt them, but was beaten by one of her sons, who stepped around his mother, and pointed accusingly at him. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I would think the same thing you are trying to do. Rescue young Mr Potter." He answered amicably. Hostility would not help the situation and the atmosphere was charged up already. He wasn't sure how much control Dumbledore had over his little band, but the expressions and body language of the witches and wizards before him told him that not much was needed to turn the situation violent.

The boy narrowed his eyes. "And you think we would believe this? Why would _you_ want to rescue him? You are the reason he is in danger!"

A brown-haired witch appeared at his side, put a hand on his arm and whispered something in his ear that made the boy snarl something back. Then he did nod in agreement and stepped back, albeit reluctantly. But the suspicion and anger were still there, and he never lowered his wand, pointing it directly at his heart. Marvolo could respect this in another wizard, even in one as young as this teenager.

He shifted his attention back to Dumbledore. The curious expression in the old man's face made Marvolo wary, especially as he looked from him to Severus and back.

"It seems, a lot of people have an interest in Harry's wellbeing." Dumbledore stated in a calm voice. "But why are you standing here then? At the edge of the wards?" The expression in those eyes changed to something sharp and piercing.

Dumbledore's party looked even more hostile and suspicious at them if that was possible, and more than one glance in Marvolo's direction was fearful, but he also noted that the whole ginger family switched their attention between himself and the house further down the street. Worry, sorrow and a hint of desperation in their expressions.

Especially the mother looked like she wanted to simply take action, but her wariness of himself and - strange enough - Dumbledore seemed to hold her back.

One man, young but with greying hair entirely ignored Marvolo and stared at the house behind them, his body stiff as if he had to prevent himself from running down the street and tore the door open.

Which would be stupid, he would simply break his own nose at the ward.

Severus stepped forward. He got more than one hostile and confused look, Marvolo registered, it seemed despite them knowing that Severus was a spy they didn't know where his true loyalty lay.

"They won't let us past. I have an explanation for it, but if you wish to confirm that nobody, with or without good intentions, can cross, feel free to test it yourself." Severus gestured to the still from his earlier spell shimmering barrier.

Dumbledore threw a short questioning and concerning look to the Potions Master, then frowned. "That shouldn't be possible. I designed and cast the wards myself."

Ignoring the whispers that had broken out, the old wizards stepped forward, directly between Marvolo and Severus and placed a hand against the barrier. "Curious."

He prodded the barrier with his wand and cast a few spells. Marvolo could feel the old man's magic wandering over the barrier, calm and unassuming but Marvolo knew the hidden depth, the power the man wielded, the burning heat his magic could feel like.

"Curious indeed. What is your theory Severus?" The old man did sound worried now.

"The wards around Mr Potter's residence is based on intent as far as I know and are designed to keep out everyone who wishes him harm from the magical community." Severus explained, while Dumbledore nodded alongside.

Everyone else was listening with focused silence.

"Now, we deducted from certain sources -"

"He wrote you letters, I presume?" Dumbledore interrupted him, and Marvolo barley prevented himself from taking a step back from the sudden sadness, grief, guilt and anguish in his old teacher's eyes. He had never seen him like this. Perhaps the old man really cared for the Potter boy, beyond his value for the war.

This could play in Marvolo's favour, the more people cared for the boy the better his Horcrux could be protected. As long as the light wouldn't try to destroy his human Horcrux, and he was sure as he observed them that most of them would be vehemently against it, Marvolo wouldn't need to make a too obvious move for the boy's protection. It would be enough to appear amicable towards Potter, which would further distance him from his alter Ego in the eye of the magical population.

Severus nodded and Marvolo also inclined his head in confirmation, and the Potions Master continued. "We came to the conclusion that Mr Potter would attempt to end his own life. As we didn't know that somebody else was aware of his plans, we decided to interfere. Mr Potter is rather powerful for his age and I heard he even had cases of accidental magic after acquiring his wand, what should normally end such occurrences. Now, Accidental magic is also intent based, but the intent of the caster. My theory is, therefore, that Mr Potter's own magic interacts with the Blood Wards, directing them and fuels them."

"Come to the point! Harry could be…" The redheaded boy interrupted Severus. The Potions Master only send him an irritated glare, shutting him up quite effectively.

"As it is Mr Potter's own will to die, his magic acts on it and with it the Blood Wards. An attempt to prevent him from doing so is interpreted as a direct act, and therefore harmful, against the intent now behind the Wards."

Stunned silence filled the street. Then the young brown-haired witch whispered brokenly. "So, he really means it."

Severus nodded shortly. "If his resolve wouldn't be strong enough to go through with it the barrier wouldn't be as strong as it is. Intent and resolve are the fuel in this kind of magic."

Nobody said anything for a short moment, shock visible on most faces.

Then Marvolo startled as he felt a tug deep inside of him. Slightly confused he shifted his attention inwards and was alarmed at what he found when he looked at his connections to his Horcruxes.

The one to the boy was starting to weaken, the edges frayed. Coming out of his mindscape he turned around and stared at the barrier. His mind analysing and searching for a solution, based on Severus deduction, he was sure the man had come to the right conclusion. But what to do about it?

If the boy's own magic read his intent, strengthening and controlling the magical barrier, then they would dissolve the moment the boy died, but that would be too late.

Somehow, they should be able to either trick the wards or go around them. What did he know about Blood Wards?

Blood Wards…

Marvolo sucked in a breath and looked down at his hands, or specifically the blue veins under his skin.

Was it possible?

Could it be that simple?

Behind him a heated discussion had started, but he was surprised that there weren't any accusations or insults, instead it seemed that for the moment the life of one wizarding child was more important.

He turned around and found Dumbledore looking at him with an expression Marvolo found hard to decipher.

"Could someone with the same blood cross the wards?" He hadn't spoken loudly, so only Severus and Dumbledore heard. He saw the moment they understood, saw how both of them thought it through.

"It could be, should be actually. Yes, it is based on the intent of the one trying to cross, but the Wards are anchored in Harry's blood, precisely in his mother's blood. Someone with the same blood running in his veins theoretically should be able to step through." The infernal twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes were back and Marvolo only barely managed to keep himself from grimacing. He hated that expression.

Instead he turned to the barrier again, brought out his wand and cast a small cutting curse across his palm. The cut was shallow but deep enough that a little bit of blood started to well and gather on his skin. He brought his bleeding hand flat against the barrier.

There was no flash or explosion or whatever big reaction some would have imagined, but the effect was instantaneous.

Marvolo felt his hand go through the barrier, and without thinking about it, took a step and went through, there was no resistance at all.

Behind him the discussion stopped, and he felt several pairs of eyes stare at him in shock. He ignored the demands of explanation which started shortly after, instead choosing to hurry to the house.

He took in the perfectly presented front lawn, the sickening _ordinariness_ of the whole building.

Everything was silent.

No movements behind the curtains, the door was closed.

A quick _Alohomora_ changed that and Marvolo stepped into a completely unassuming hallway, he took in his surroundings briefly before he came to a sudden halt when he registered the doors to a cupboard under the stairs. Severus had told him what it had been used for.

Harry Potter had been his enemy since he had first heard the prophecy, but he also was his Horcrux and these two contrary aspects made it difficult for Marvolo to just be neutral concerning the boy. No magical child should grow up like this, or like him, or like Severus.

He felt the connection to the boy weaken even further. This was not the time and place to think about what had been done to a magical child, again.

Walking past the cupboard, Marvolo cast _Homenum Revelio._

The only other human in this house was upstairs, so he took the stairs to another completely unremarkable hallway, only to stop in front of a door with too many padlocks.

The anger filling him was familiar, one of the only emotions which he had felt during his time of insanity. But it also felt different then he remembered, sharper, focused, more cold than hot.

He spelt the padlocks away, opened the door and stepped through.

* * *

 **AN:** Thanks for reading.

Please don't kill me, I know it's a mean cliff-hanger. The next chapter is already written, thank Merlin, and I hope to upload it at the beginning of next week.

First published: 25th of September 2019


	18. Saving Harry

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and anything in the HP universe is not mine, sadly.

 **AN:** Here it is, the next chapter. I don't want to keep you hanging on the cliff for longer.

The response to the last chapter was overwhelming, that you are all so infested in this little fanfiction story of mine is simply astonishing. Thank you all for the support! I wish I could hug you all! *hugs you all*

So, to all of you who reviewed, favoured, and followed, a huge huge thank you!

This chapter is beta'ed by the brilliant **a-bit-of-madness** , many thanks and hugs to her.

Have fun reading.

 **On with the story.**

* * *

 **Chapter 18: Saving Harry**

What he found made him stop abruptly. Despite having seen and been the cause of more bloodshed and dead bodies than he was willing to admit in the moment, the sharp metallic scent of blood made Marvolo's head spin as he tried to take in the scene before him.

The small, sparsely furnished room, the bars in front of the window. The bucket in one corner. The many many parchments filled with drawings on the walls.

The boy leaned against his bed, blood pooled all around him, only a small trickle still coming out of the wounds in his arms. Eyes closed; skin pale. He looked peaceful and didn't breathe.

This was what shocked Marvolo out of his stupor. He rushed to the boy's side, ignoring the red liquid he stepped in and something that looked like a piece of glass in the middle of it. Placing two fingers at the thin throat, he searched for a pulse.

There, faint and unsteady, but still there. Something loosened inside him, something he hadn't even known was in knots.

He cast a stasis spell on the boy immediately. There wasn't anything he could do here and even if - he didn't know any healing spells. He was sure that this was beyond what Narcissa or even his Inner Circle's healer could do. They needed to bring him to St. Mungo's.

Levitating him, Marvolo made his way out of the room, vanishing the blood from his shoes and sealing the room with a spell. Then he made his way down the stairs and out of the house towards the assembled wizards and witches. The wards prevented Apparition inside of it, and Marvolo wasn't sure if they even _could_ apparate the boy in his condition.

He felt highly inadequate dealing with this situation. He hated feeling like that, hated to not be in control, and somehow Potter was always in the middle of things.

All eyes were on the body following him as he stepped through the ward, only for a second, it felt like he was walking through very thick air, like it wanted to prevent him from removing the boy. Then he was through. Ignoring everyone else, he spoke directly to Narcissa and Severus, both who had at least basic knowledge of healing magic and who he trusted.

"He lost a lot of blood and wasn't breathing. I don't know how long. The wounds were still leaking, and the blood was fresh, and he had a weak pulse. I put him under stasis. He needs St. Mungo's."

Around him, shocked intakes of breath followed his clipped statement. Narcissa looked at the body with assessing eyes, while Severus shortly closed his. Then the black eyes focused on him.

"Your stasis charm should be strong enough that it will hold when we apparate. I will take him." Severus stepped up to the body.

"YOU!" An outcry from one of the young ginger teenagers stopped him. "Why would you try to save him! You hate him, you bullied him. Why should we trust you with him?"

Severus didn't turn around, he simply took the body in his arms, his face a careful mask of neutrality. "Because I swore an oath Mr Weasley, and whatever you think of me, I will never stand by and let someone die if I can prevent it, especially a child."

And with that, he spun and apparated away.

* * *

Never in his life had Severus occluded as heavily as since his Lord had stepped out of the house, with a body floating behind him. A too thin, too small, lifeless body.

For several excruciating moments all he could think about was that he had failed; failed Lily, failed the boy, failed again as he had done so many years ago.

The moment he arrived in the Apparition room of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, he called for the healers. The first one who registered the lifeless body he held in his arms, called for more.

"Sir, what happened?" Someone asked him, but Severus could only stare at the thin pale face, which didn't look like James Potter at all. The boy had never looked so young and vulnerable.

Someone got Severus to release the grip he had on the body, the boy was lifted out of his arms and was laid on a stretcher, then they rushed him to an Emergency room. Several healers and mediwizards and -witches surrounded him, someone was barking orders. Severus followed them, unwilling to leave the boy alone.

Someone touched his arm and held him back before he could enter the room the boy was brought in.

"Sir, please. Do you need help as well? A calming draught perhaps? We need to know what happened." A young trainee held a glass veil out to him, but Severus shook his head.

He coughed and cleared his throat.

"He tried to…" He stopped shortly, trying to make sense of everything. "He did it himself. My… he was found like this. He wasn't breathing, but the cuts were still bleeding, and he had a weak pulse. The one to find him didn't know any healing spells, so he put him under stasis."

The trainee noted everything down on a sheet.

"And your name?"

"Severus Snape."

"The patient's name?"

"Harry Potter."

* * *

After Severus' departure everyone had been in shock for a moment. Then nearly everyone started talking at once. Ron simply stared at the point where their hated Potions Professor had disappeared with the lifeless body of his best friend. It had only been brief, but he had seen the horrifying cuts on Harry's arm.

He had done that to himself. Despite everything, it was still unbelievable.

A hand found its way into his own, warm, soothing and grounding as it squeezed his tightly.

"He will survive, and we will help him to see that he still has reasons to live. And we will find another way to handle the Horcrux problem." Hermione sounded determined, but Ron saw the tears swimming in her eyes. He nodded and curled his fingers around hers. Harry was their best friend and he would be damned before he let him go. He would survive, he had to. He was _Harry_! He had survived so many bad situations already.

But a small voice whispered that this time it was different because this time Harry had done that himself, and he had meant it.

"Enough!" Dumbledore's voice cut through the noise, silencing everyone. "Enough. This doesn't help. I would suggest a party of us follow Severus to the hospital. Harry is in good hands at St Mungo's."

That brought another round of discussion. Who would go?

Ron saw Mrs Malfoy and the man he knew now was You-Know-Who exchange looks then both disapparate.

He glanced at Hermione and knew neither she nor he would go anywhere else than the hospital and it seemed his father knew it too. He and his mother stood before them, sadness but also determination in their eyes, both held their arms out.

"Come, let's go to the hospital. The others can discuss as long as they want." His mother's voice was calm, soothing.

"What of my parents? They will be here shortly?" Hermione asked. Ron saw his Mum squeeze her arm.

"Bill will wait here for them, then he will join us in the hospital. Come now, Harry needs his family."

Hermione nodded and Ron grabbed his father's arm. Then the world spun away.

* * *

It took a while to find the right area to wait for news on Harry. The hospital was in utter chaos, apparently someone had accidentally let loose a cloud of poisonous seeds in a crowded area of Diagon Alley. People were everywhere, calling for healers, searching for their relatives.

Hermione had reclaimed his hand the moment they had arrived and hadn't let go the whole way they followed his parents to the reception desk and then through the hallways. Ron remembered the hallways from their visits to his father when he had been bitten by Nagini last Christmas. Harry had been the reason his dad had even had the chance to survive.

Finally, they arrived in the waiting area, where they found Snape sitting, staring at one of the doors leading from the room.

Mrs Weasley hurried over to him. "Is there any news, Severus?"

The man looked up and Ron was hit by the exhaustion he saw in his face. He had never seen the dungeon bat like this. He felt a little guilty about the accusations he had thrown at the man.

Hermione led him to one of the chairs and sat down herself, listening to the short conversation between their teacher and Mrs Weasley.

"They rushed him into the emergency treatment room. A trainee promised to bring news if there is any. So far, he hasn't been back." The man's deep voice sounded rough and tired, and Ron again was struck by the realization that Severus Snape was indeed human and seemed to care at least a little for Harry Potter.

His parents sat beside the Professor. "That's good." They sounded like they needed to convince themselves. "That's good. They know what to do."

A door opened and all heads went up, but it was only the twins, Ginny, Percy and Charlie who entered. They were told what they knew, and everyone found a seat. Charlie wrapped an arm around their sister, who was even paler than usual, her freckles dark on her skin. But she didn't cry, her mouth set in a hard line and it hit Ron that Ginny knew something about the pain Harry was going through. She had been in close contact with a Horcrux for a whole year and knew the desperation a foreign presence in oneself could evoke. The thought made Ron ill.

Silence settled over the room again. The minutes ticked by, feeling like hours.

Ron looked down at his hands, the one in the tight grasp of the girl beside him, the other one in a tight fist to prevent it from shaking. His mind was still reeling.

Harry had done it. Why?

He understood why rationally, it was all in the letters, but emotionally, Ron just couldn't comprehend what had actually happened. His mind simply refused to wrap around the fact.

The door opened again, this time it was You-Know-Who strolling inside, making everyone besides Snape sit up straight in shock.

But the man just scanned their faces and sat down. "I presume there are no news?" Snape was the one to answer with a shake of his head. Nobody dared protest against the man's presence.

Silence again.

Ron snuck a glance at the wizard sitting at the other end of the room. He looked normal enough, just a bloke somewhere around forty perhaps, but his eyes were still creepy, blood-red irises vibrant in the pale face. His expression was blank, and he sat rather stiffly.

The door opened again.

The Headmaster and Professor Lupin rushed in. Ron's parents talked with them in hushed whispers.

Ron continued to stare at his hands.

* * *

He didn't know how long they waited, but at some point, a young wizard in pale blue robes entered their little waiting room. He stopped short when he saw the crowd. "You are all here for Mr Potter?"

Everyone nodded.

He frowned uncertain. "I am only allowed to give away information about a patient to his family."

Before anyone else could say something, Dumbledore took charge.

"As I am sure you know young man, Mr Potter has no family anymore. This here is his family, or as close as a family without actual blood bonds could be."

The trainee regarded the Headmaster, then sighed. "I'll get the Healer assigned to Mr Potter's case and we'll see what he decides."

Then he disappeared through the door. Only moments later a healer in lime green robes with purple trim stepped back out of the doors and regarded them all sternly. He had dark warm eyes and very short brown hair, but his expression told them that he was not a man to be crossed and that he was the one to make the decision here.

"My name is Healer Samson. As I understood you are the family of Mr Potter." He looked unconvinced.

"Please, just tell us… will he survive?" Hermione's voice beside him nearly broke at the end. The stern look in the man's eyes softened as his gaze shifted to Ron and Hermione.

"Ah, very well, let's hear you out. It isn't as if I don't know who most of you are and who is laying on my operating table. But what you are doing here is beyond me, Lord Slytherin." He turned to You-Know-Who.

The man shifted slightly, a shockingly human gesture. "I was the one to find Mr Potter in his home, and… there are aspects of the situation linked to me."

Healer Samson raised an eyebrow and gestured for the man to continue, his expression allowing no argument. Lord Slytherin looked troubled for a moment, then he stood, stepped up to the Healer and conversed with him in whispers.

Ron was fairly sure he was somehow explaining the soul-link he and Harry shared due to the Horcrux.

Could the man still feel it? Would he know if his Horcrux was already destroyed and Harry dead?

The Healer nodded to something Slytherin said and the Lord went back to his seat.

Samson looked around the room again and settled on Dumbledore. "You, Professor Dumbledore are only the Headmaster of the boy, why should you be entitled to information on my patient?"

The Headmaster looked shocked for a moment at the tone Samson had used. "Mr Samson -"

"The correct address is Healer Samson." He was interrupted.

Dumbledore inclined his head but looked a little put out. " _Healer_ Samson, Mr Potter is one of my favourite students and I was close with his parents. After their deaths I kept an eye on him…"

The man raised his hand and stopped the Headmaster at this. "Stop right there, Professor Dumbledore. If that were true, we wouldn't have found so many alarming things during the general diagnostic charm." His expression turned dark.

Dumbledore sighed, the sound heavy and defeated. "If you refer to the damage done to Mr Potter, beside the self-inflicted wounds, I take the blame completely. He was left with his Muggle relatives from his Mother's side. Lily Potter was an extraordinary witch and Harry survived as a baby mainly because of her love. To ensure his continued survival he had to live with blood family, and I underestimated the resentment her sister still felt for the magical world, while overestimating the love and care I was sure to be found in family by blood."

To hear the words come out of the Headmaster's mouth was a shock to Ron, never had he thought that Dumbledore would concede that he was wrong. He knew the man cared for his best friend, but also knew that Dumbledore looked at the bigger picture and forgot the individuals more often than not. He knew Dumbledore felt guilty, had known it since he stepped into the Burrow's kitchen that morning, it had been written in the deep lines in his face. But to hear him say it…

"The name of Mr Potter's Muggle family?" Healer Samson enquired, in a flat voice.

"Dursley, Vernon and Petunia Dursley."

Samson nodded and jotted the names down on a clipboard he had in hand, then tapped it with his wand and the parchment folded itself and flew out of the room.

"Will they be arrested?" Ron dared to ask. Samson didn't answer but the expression in his eyes was all the answer Ron needed. The Dursleys would be taken care off.

Good…

"About time." He heard his mother mutter. She was sitting beside his father, clinging to his arm.

"Now, who are you?" Samson addressed Professor Lupin.

"Remus Lupin, I'm – was very close with James Potter and Lily Potter. I was his Professor for a year, and we stayed in contact. I –" Lupin stumbled, and Ron interrupted him.

"He is his uncle and second godfather." It wasn't a lie, not entirely and Ron wanted this to be over. He understood that the Healer needed to make sure who he was giving sensitive information to. But it took too long.

Samson turned to him. "And you are?"

"Ronald Weasley, I'm his brother and his best friend." The assessing look he got told Ron that Samson knew that Harry wasn't his brother by blood, but after a moment he nodded and pointed with his quill to the rest of the Weasley family and the Grangers.

"Your family, I assume?"

"Yes." The squeeze from Hermione was bordering on painful.

Then Samson turned to Snape. The Professor seemed to be back to his stoic and surly self again as he raised an eyebrow before answering. "You very well know who I am Mr Samson, as I remember your performance in my classroom even after all these years."

Samson sent the man a piercing look, then smirked. "Someone managed to remove the goo in the old classroom?"

The stare he got from Snape should have burned him on the spot.

Samson sighed. "Very well. What is your relationship with Mr Potter?"

If Ron hadn't watched the interaction, he would have missed the expression of anguish and guilt exposed briefly on Snape's face, as it was, he did see it and it caught his breath.

"I was friends with his mother long ago and after her death, I… I swore an oath to protect the boy. As it seems, I didn't do a very good job." He didn't say anything more, but it seemed to be enough for Healer Samson.

His Mum stood up at this point, wringing her hands. "Please, Healer Samson, can you tell us anything?" The worry and impatience in her face was clear.

Samson looked around the room for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision and addressed them all. "Let me tell you the facts so far. Mr Potter has self-inflicted wounds on both of his arms, going from his wrist nearly down to his inner elbow. These kinds of wounds are very difficult to heal. Before we could start treatment, we had to bring him out of the stasis spell - whoever cast that spell may have saved Mr Potter's life." He looked at them, questioning.

Slytherin spoke up. "It was me."

The Healer inclined his head towards him appreciatively before moving on "We've given him a _wound-closing Potion_ , which is the standard treatment for self-inflicted wounds, but as Mr Potter himself is rather powerful for his age, his magic is fighting the healing magic of the Potion and rendering it nearly completely useless. So, we've bandaged the wounds instead, which is reducing the bleeding for the moment, but they are not closing. We've given him the maximum number of Blood-Replenishing potions, which helped stabilizing him to an extent. He is sedated, but is not breathing on his own, thankfully his magic is not fighting the magic keeping his lungs working for him."

Ron listened to the Healer's report holding his breath. Hermione shifted at his side.

"Why is his magic fighting the healing Potion? Why isn't it healing him? Shouldn't it want to keep him alive?" The question stumbled out of her before somebody else could say anything. Healer Samson didn't seem to mind and just looked at her shortly before answering.

"All magic goes back to intent. He made those wounds himself, therefore he doesn't want them to be closed, therefore his magic keeps them open." He explained calmly.

"We can't give him anymore Blood-Replenishing potions for at least an hour, which shouldn't be a problem if the bleeding stays at the small amount he is losing now. The crucial point is to wait till Mr Potter's magic is depleted enough not to fight the Potion's healing magic anymore, so that the wounds can be closed permanently. All the while keeping an eye on his core, so that it doesn't deplete too much. The problem is his overall health condition. His body is weak from malnourishment, which is affecting his organs, and his immune system is compromised."

The Healer looked at them with a hard expression. "If his magic doesn't stop fighting us and the wounds stay open, he will bleed out. If his magic depletes too much, his core will be damaged, and a damaged core will damage the body, damage his body can't handle, his organs will stop functioning. Complete depletion will destroy his core beyond repair. We are witches and wizards; without a magical core our bodies don't survive. The problem is that his magic is too focused and depleting too fast."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"It's like I said, magic is linked to intent. From the wounds alone, I conclude that Mr Potter knew exactly what he was doing and wanted to do it. The mindset is very important in healing. If he doesn't want to live, his magic will react accordingly and with time his body simply will die. As I said, we tried to get him to breathe on his own but couldn't. A spell is working his lungs for now, but the more his magic fights against us, the faster it will be depleted, and we need to catch the exact moment between enough loss that the Potion's magic can work, and still enough that the core isn't damaged. He…"

An alarm interrupted Healer Samson, and without another word he rushed out of the room, leaving everyone to stare at the white door which had closed behind him.

Somewhere behind that door, his best friend was dying. Or so it had sounded.

Ron went back to stare at his hands.

* * *

At one-point Lupin left and came back with a tray full of lukewarm tea and coffee, and Bill and the Grangers following him into the waiting room. Hermione had patted Ron's hand and then rushed to her parents, explaining to them in whispers what they knew so far.

Ron had found his Gryffindor bravery then and had approached the man previously known as Lord Voldemort. The man had stared at him with an unreadable expression as Ron stood before him, his mouth dry.

"Is the connection to Harry still intact?" It came out as a whisper, but suddenly the silence behind him in the room felt heavier. He tried not to shudder from the stare out of those eerie red eyes.

"Yes, it is. Frayed and weak, but still intact."

The wave of relief that went through the room was nearly visible, whispered conversations broke out. Ron nodded and returned to his seat.

It felt like hours before the door opened again and Healer Samson entered. Ron remembered the fear he had felt when his father had been attacked and they didn't know if he would make it, but then he hadn't seen how his father had looked when they had found him. He had only heard what happened, now… the long, red, angry looking gashes on Harry's pale arms haunted him - it probably would for the rest of his life.

The Healer looked exhausted and not as composed as before. There were hard lines now visible around his eyes.

Everyone went silent.

* * *

Marvolo didn't know why he had answered the Weasley boy, but something in his expression had compelled him. He felt slightly uncomfortable in the present company and he wasn't sure if they thought he didn't see the glances they sent in his direction, or simply didn't care.

He wasn't even sure why he was still here. Yes, he owed the Potter boy a debt and yes, he was certainly invested in the well-being of his Horcrux, but why was he sitting here in a hospital waiting room like he was family, like he cared for the boy?

He hadn't any answers to that question and he was still too new to emotions, besides anger, to try and decipher them.

When the Healer stepped in again, he knew immediately that he didn't have good news.

"I have bad news and good news."

Sombre silence filled the room.

"Mr Potter has lost too much blood and his magic is still fighting us, despite being depleted to a nearly damaging level. With standard treatments we can't do anything for him anymore. We are not sure how long his body will hold out, how long till his organs will shut down because of the blood loss, which we can't do anything about because of his magic. We are fighting a two-front war." Samson continued.

The horrible truth went out like a shock wave through the gathered people.

"You said," It was the young brown-haired witch again, who tried to find her voice. "You said, you can't do anything with _standard_ treatments anymore."

Healer Samson nodded. "Yes, and that's the good news. Healer Quentin, a specialist for magical core damage and myself, we have come up with an alternative treatment."

"And that would be?" The matriarch of the ginger family spoke, a Prewett if Marvolo remembered correctly from what Lucius had told him.

"Mr Potter needs blood to stabilize his body, which we can't give him with the typical Potions anymore. Therefore, I suggest a Muggle blood transfusion, adjusted to magical means obviously. This will take care of the body and prevent any more damage to his organs."

"Muggle treatment?!" The Weasley woman sounded scandalized. Marvolo could only agree, but then had to concede that his knowledge of Muggle Medicine was stuck on what was standard during the second world war.

"There is nothing wrong with Muggle treatment, Mrs Weasley." The young witch - Marvolo remembered now she was a Muggleborn - cut in. The pair beside her, obviously her parents, nodded and sent some rather angry glares towards the older witch.

Before any discussion could start, Healer Samson spoke. "Muggle treatment is the only way here and their way to handle blood loss with a blood transfusion gave us the idea of how to handle Mr Potter's diminishing magic."

All eyes were on him again.

"In some cases, the inert magic of the patient stands between them and their treatment, we normally use a potion to cut off their core from their body for a short time and a spell to reduce the magic lingering in the body. Then the body can be healed before body and core are connected again." The Healer explained.

"We can't do this for Mr Potter, as the shock would certainly kill him, but if his body is stabilized through blood transfusion, we can try to deplete his core further with a similar spell and in the moment that his magic is on the lowest level before damage to his core can occur, we will try a Magic transfusion. The foreign magic, which would carry the intent of the donor, would not only allow the _wound-closing_ Potion to close the wounds on his arms, but also help the body to heal itself. And it would stabilize Mr Potter's core."

"That sounds rather… easy." One of the redheaded wizards said.

"The treatment we are suggesting is definitely anything but easy. First of all, we need to find a compatible blood donor, secondly the Healers need to be in perfect timing for the depleting and magic transfusion and third is to find a compatible magic donor, which certainly will be the hardest part."

"Why?" The Muggleborn witch asked.

Marvolo was fairly sure he heard Samson mutter something like "What do they teach nowadays at that school", then the man sighed and started to elaborate.

"Our magic is inclined to light, grey or dark from the moment of our birth. This doesn't mean that someone who is light can't use dark magic and it also doesn't mean that dark magic equals the Dark Arts or evil. Magic is just magic." He sent an irritating look towards Dumbledore, who hadn't said anything for a while, only listened and observed. Marvolo promised himself to keep an eye on the Healer, someone who wasn't completely taken by Dumbledore and wasn't negatively inclined to grey and dark magic was worthwhile to keep in mind.

"It just means that certain spells are easier to perform if your magical core is inclined in the corresponding aspect. But our magical cores, and therefore our magic is not stagnant. It grows alongside the witch and wizard, it changes and develops over our life and is influenced by how we grow up, what we experience and what spells we use. Therefore, someone born with a mostly light magical core can have a mostly dark core after years, or the other way around. Now, all these experiences that shape our magic also give it what we call the magical signature. Even if two individuals start with the exact same magical core and live an identical life, the magical signature will still be slightly different." The Healer's eyes briefly flickered to the two identical ginger wizards at the other end of the room.

"Magic transfusion and Blood transfusion have the same limitations, the blood and magic needs to be compatible to Mr Potter. In the case of the blood a simple spell can reveal if that is the case, and even non-magical blood can be used. But for the Magic, we need to find someone with a similar enough magical signature, which means someone who went through comparable life experiences, especially in the formative years of childhood, and therefore has a magic that Mr Potter's core will not reject. There is a spell to reveal magical signatures but no spell to compare two with each other. But Healer Quentin is rather proficient in reading and interpreting magical signatures and therefore will be the one to compare the Donor's to Mr Potter's and decide if we try the donation."

He didn't need to say that finding a compatible magical donor was especially hard, given what they knew about how the Potter boy grew up and what he experienced in Hogwarts.

"Now, will we first see if we can find a blood donor for Mr Potter. For this we will test all of you, which will only take a few seconds, and with luck we won't need to search outside of this group of people. If someone of you doesn't want to be tested, just stand to the side." The proposition was sensible and would prevent anyone beside the people who already knew from finding out that the boy who lived was in the hospital.

Behind Healer Samson the door opened, and three trainees entered. "Please just stay seated while we conduct the test."

They started with the ginger family and the Muggles and their daughter. But apparently none of them was compatible. When the trainees reached his side of the room, Marvolo stood and instantly all eyes were on him.

"This will not be needed. I'm certain my blood will be compatible."

"Why, Lord Slytherin?" Samson asked.

"During the resurrection ritual Mr Potter's blood was used to construct this body." He gestured down on himself, the Healer instantly stood before him. How had he moved that fast?

"What else, beside Mr Potter's blood?"

"Flesh from a servant, and bones from my father."

Samson scribbled on his clipboard, then pointed his wand at Marvolo and performed the compatibility spell himself, before Marvolo could protest or even react.

The man eyed him like he wanted to dissect him. Marvolo was sure as a formally Dark Lord he shouldn't feel intimidated by a Healer.

"Oh, yes, very compatible, nearly identical. If I didn't know it, I would say you are blood-related based on the compatibility."

Everyone in the room cringed at the statement.

"Perfect. Trainee Haversford please go and start to prepare Mr Potter for the blood transfusion. Even if we don't find someone for the Magic transfusion right now, we will perform the Blood transfusion. It will certainly help and buy us time." One of the trainees hurried away at the healer's orders.

"Now, if any of you have a suggestion for someone who could possibly have a suitable magical signature, it would help. If not, we will have to search in the whole British magical community and that would take a while, and if we don't find somebody here…" Samson trailed off, but everybody knew what he had left unsaid. Searching worldwide would take time, time Potter didn't have. Immediately quiet discussion began.

"Can the donor for blood and magic be the same?" Marvolo heard himself ask.

Samson shook his head. "It would be too much of a strain to the donor. If you think that your magical signature could be compatible, we could test it and if this is the case search instead for another blood donor."

Marvolo thought about what the healer had said. Could their magical signature be similar? They both certainly had childhoods which had been far from happy and had also been overshadowed by violence, Potter's due to the death of his parents and Marvolo's because of the second world war and the wizarding war against Grindelwald. But it had been completely different times. And once he had been in Hogwarts, he certainly hadn't the extreme experiences the boy apparently had during his school years. The only similar event had been the opening of the Chamber of Secrets.

"Is the age of the donor important?" Severus' voice sounded over the hushed discussions in the room. Marvolo looked at the Potions Master, who was frowning in thought.

"Normally we would say yes, as an older donor certainly had more experiences and more time for his magic to grow, but in Mr Potter's case… I've heard stories, and his magic doesn't act or feel like the magic of the typical teenager." Samson glanced at Severus. "Why?"

Severus sighed. "I would be willing to let myself be tested for magical compatibility."

* * *

 **AN:** Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think.

Theoretically the next chapter shouldn't take long (it's already in the editing process). But as someone threatened me with bodily harm if the next chapter ends in a cliffy, too (yes, you know who I am taking about, aren't you?) and I think most will count this also as a cliff-hanger I will go into hiding now. Wish me luck in running away from a pitchfork. So, see you, if I survive! *Runs away*

First published: 29th of September 2019


	19. Family

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or anything in the HP Universe. I simply wish to play in J.K. Rowling's playground for my own amusement (and hopefully yours too).

 **Warnings:** Aftermath of a suicide attempt.

 **AN:** Oh wow, your response to the last chapters was really astonishing. You are all so supportive and awesome. Therefore, I didn't want to let you wait too long for this one. Hugs to all of you, to everyone who reviewed, favoured, and followed.

This chapter is beta'ed by the wonderful **a-bit-of-madness**! Many many thanks and hugs and kisses to her.

Have fun reading.

 **On with the story.**

* * *

 **Chapter 19: Family**

Severus wasn't entirely sure why he volunteered. The moment Healer Samson talked about how the boy still lost blood, while his magic depleted itself by fighting the healing magic, his mind went back to the article he had read only two days ago, about the improvement of the Potion to treat self-inflicted wounds.

He wished now he had found the time somewhere in between all the happenings of the last days to conduct the tests he had wanted to do. Perhaps it would have helped to at least close the wound for a short time - time they could have used to replace the lost blood, and perhaps his magic would settle.

But they didn't have the time now. Destiny, or magic, or whatever god or goddess was responsible had played them, because Severus knew without a doubt that his magical signature would be compatible.

The similarities were too obvious.

They both grew up in the Muggle world, they had both horrid families. They had grown up being bullied, ridiculed and - in parts - unwanted. They had both learned early on how cruel the world could be. They had only a small number of real friends throughout their childhood, if any. Hogwarts had been their home, was their home still, but even there they had experienced hardship, bullying and traumatic events. Severus had been there for most of the boy's. They had both been touched and marked by the magic of the same dark wizard. They both knew what losing someone dear meant.

It pained Severus to admit that Potter – _Harry -_ could have become like him, and Severus thanked Merlin that he hadn't.

Even still their magical signature should be - _would_ be - similar enough that Severus could be a donor.

He still wasn't sure what he should think about the boy - the loathing of everything _Potter_ was still there - but the thought of the last remains of his best friend disappearing was unbearable, and he couldn't get the pale thin face out of his mind, so unlike his father's.

The realisation that the boy was just that – a child - hit him again. A child who never knew his parents, who had experienced things a child should never need to go through.

The dark emotions of blame and bitterness grew. Perhaps it was selfish and the wrong reason to volunteer, but at least he was doing something helpful, something to perhaps lessen the deep pool of guilt in him. Severus had never claimed to be an altruistic person.

He followed Healer Samson out of the waiting area into a corridor with several doors leading into examination and operation rooms. In one of them there was another healer and a trainee waiting for them. The healer was a short, wiry, older woman, with short, dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes.

"Professor Snape, this is Healer Quentin. She will be testing your magical signature and will be the one handling the transfusion. I will leave you in her capable hands." Samson nodded to Severus, then addressed his colleague. "Melanie, Professor Snape volunteered for the Magic Transfusion. How long do you think you will need?"

The woman looked shortly at Severus then at Samson. "I will perform the test myself, if he is compatible, we can conduct the transfusion the moment Mr Potter is stable. Did you find a donor?"

Samson nodded. "Yes, we have a very compatible donor for the Blood transfusion. Trainee Haversford is preparing everything as we speak."

"Good. The test for magical compatibility will take at least half an hour to an hour. Depending on the findings, I may need another hour to interpret the signature and compare it with Mr Potter's." Healer Quentin gestured to the trainee, who was busy with something on a table at the other end of the room.

"Good, let me know the moment you have the results." He left the room with another nod to Severus, who found himself on the end of the rather scrutinizing stare of Healer Quentin. For such a short woman, she was rather intimidating.

"So, _you're_ Professor Snape? I thought you would be more… terrifying, based on the stories I've heard from my trainees." It didn't sound like she was insulting Severus, more like she was stating a fact. "So, you think that your magic is compatible with Mr Potter's."

Severus nodded curtly, earning another one of those scrutinizing looks.

Severus had the feeling he didn't measure up in the eyes of Healer Quentin, a feeling he didn't like.

"Then let's see if that's the case. You just sit there on the examination table, if you have anything magical on your person, please remove it and place it on the table there." She pointed towards a small table beside the door. "Like your wand, or a magical wristwatch."

Severus nodded in understanding, removing his wand from the inner pocket of his robes, and the potion vials he had packed just in case. The healer looked shortly at them but didn't say anything.

Then she gestured for Severus to sit on the examination table in the middle of the room and went to the trainee, who stepped aside. Now Severus could see that two large glass cylinders filled with differently sized glass balls took up most of the table at the back of the room. The balls in one of them were glowing in too many colours and intensities to differentiate from where Severus was sitting. The glass spheres in the other cylinder looked empty.

After a short, quiet conversation, the trainee stepped to the side of the table where the cylinder with the empty balls was and Healer Quentin stood before Severus.

"Have you ever had your magical signature tested?"

"No."

"This," She gestured to the cylinders. "Will record the findings. The one with the glowing spheres already holds the results from Mr Potter. What I will do now is scan your magic. It is a rather long spell in which I have to insist that you don't move _at all_. The spell I will perform will feel rather intrusive, as it searches how the magic is distributed in your body and then scans, your magical core."

"What will it record?" Severus knew the theory about magical signatures but had never thought about his own beyond that he had a mostly dark core, with enough grey and light magic to not hinder his ability to brew healing potions or attempt light spells.

"The exact composition of dark, grey and light magic your magical core is made of, which branches of magic it is inclined to, and in what intensity, how the different properties of your magic are connected and so on. After everything is scanned, I will perform a second spell, which will transfer the findings to the glass cylinder and translate it into different colours and light intensities." Healer Quentin took her wand out of one of the many pockets of her healing robes. "Now, I need absolute silence and no movement please, this will take at least half an hour. You are comfortable like this?"

If he could endure hours of meetings with an insane Dark Lord, he could sit still for half an hour on an examination table, even if he sat rather stiffly. He nodded.

"Wonderful." Quentin nodded and started chanting.

* * *

Thankfully, it really took only half an hour. Severus felt like he had been turned inside out, like someone had shoved their hands into his very being and brought everything out to inspect under the harsh light of the hospital. His magic felt bruised, like every little piece of it had been yanked out and prodded, inside and out, catalogued and measured, and jammed back into place.

"Rather intrusive," Severus scoffed, after he was allowed to move again.

Quentin only sent him an amused look, then shifted her attention to the second cylinder, where the glass balls were now also glowing with different colours. As far as Severus could see there were no obvious similarities between the distribution of the colours in regard to the size of the spheres or intensity in his cylinder to Potter's.

What did that mean? Would that mean he wasn't a fit?

Severus was not sure what he should think about it.

As neither healer nor trainee said anything to him about leaving, he stood up from the table, stretched, pocketed his wand and the potion vials again and shifted to the side to observe what they were doing.

Quentin was moving her wand over the both cylinders, muttering a quiet incantation above them, which made the spheres move. Severus got the impression she was sorting them, but by what he couldn't tell.

The trainee had prepared a parchment and a quill beside her.

After a while it seemed the witch was satisfied with the arrangement, as she stepped back and scrutinized the cylinders in front of her one last time. Then she nodded and started scribbling on the parchment. From time to time she lifted her wand and brought other spheres to the front with a flick, then she went back to scribbling on the parchment and muttering quietly to herself.

Severus got a glimpse of calculations far beyond what they taught in N.E.W.T arithmancy classes and more similar to what Severus himself had needed to learn during his Potion Mastery, and still needed when he had the time to research and develop potions.

He stepped silently closer to actually be able to read what she was scribbling. It certainly was numerology equations, comparing several different properties with each other, but without background information it was impossible to follow her calculations, so Severus leaned back against the wall and settled in to wait. He had every intention of avoiding the waiting room and its occupants as much as possible. The Headmaster hadn't said much since they arrived, but Severus knew him well enough to know that he certainly had something to say.

Neither the healer, nor her trainee spared him a glance, or seemed to even notice his continuing presence in the room. Only the scratching of quill on parchment and Healer Quentin's muttering was heard.

* * *

Severus estimated that it took Healer Quentin around forty minutes to finish her calculations. He knew that it could take a while, they had said so, but while he waited, the picture of the boy, lifeless and pale on that stretcher before they wheeled him away, haunted him.

Had they already finished the blood transfusion? If he wasn't compatible, would they have enough time to search for another donor?

He had to prevent himself from drumming his fingers on his arms.

When she finally put the quill down, spread the parchments she had filled with equations all over the table and examined them again, he suppressed a relieved sigh.

Where was his usual patience?

After a few minutes more, she nodded, looked up and jumped in surprise when she saw him leaning against the wall, the trainee whirled around at her sudden movement and stared at him too.

"Professor Snape, I didn't realize you were still here. You could have gone back to the waiting room." She pushed her parchment into a neat stack.

"I was interested in the process of how to compare two magical signatures." He stated simply and got one of those piercing stares back.

"Ah, well, I hope it was educating." She gestured to the cylinders while addressing the trainee. "Please call someone for the eradication and cleaning of the magical residue and then go to Mr Potter's examination room. Healer Samson should be there, tell him we have a donor for the magic transfusion, and they can prepare Mr Potter for it."

The trainee nodded and left the room.

Severus looked at the glowing balls and then at the healer. "So, our magical signatures are compatible?"

She nodded. "Yes. It is not a hundred percent fit, mostly due to different composition of your core magic. Where yours is mostly dark, Mr Potter's is an equal amount of light, grey and dark - very unusual, normally a core favours one or two. Nevertheless, your magical signature is similar in over sixty percent of the key markers and therefore you are a compatible magical donor for Mr Potter." She gestured to the door. "If you follow me, we will prepare everything for the transfusion."

Severus followed her down the corridor into another examination room, where hospital bed and examination table filled the middle of the room, several people stood around them writing on clipboards and speaking quietly with one another. There was a steady beeping sound, and at the foot of the bed numbers, diagrams and the small image of a human body were floating. All Severus could see of the occupant of the bed was an unruly mop of black hair.

When he stepped further into the room, he realized that Lord Slytherin was sitting on the examination table, his hand resting between shoulder and throat of the boy laying in the bed – the skin to skin contact needed for the blood transfusion.

Lord Slytherin's face was unreadable as he nodded sharply to Severus.

Severus knew the theory behind the procedure and had seen the successful implementation twice before. Compared to the Muggle way, there were no needles or tubes involved, just spellwork. First, a blood vessel from the donor needed to be connected to the vascular system of the patient. Normally this was done by a small incision in the wrist of both and then a spell to connect the vessels to each other, which wasn't possible in this case because of the wounds on the boy's wrists. Next, a filter charm was cast to remove the unneeded parts of the blood, and then a spell to get the blood flowing from the donor to the patient.

Samson was bringing Quentin up to date. "We've had Mr Potter on blood transfusion for half an hour now, which already helped to stabilize him and keep him from the worst. He is reacting very well to the blood transfusion. We slowed down the blood flow to him after the initial transfusion. I decided to keep him connected with constant small blood flow, as his wounds are still not closed, and it will help stabilize him further. Lord Slytherin has already had two Blood-Replenishing potions." Samson looked shortly at Severus, then turned to his colleague again. "Trainee Greenfield told us that we should prepare Mr Potter for the Magic transfusion?"

The woman beside Severus nodded. "Yes, Professor Snape is a compatible donor and we can start the procedure immediately."

"Good and you are willing to donate?" he addressed Severus directly.

Severus looked at the healer in disbelief. "Rather late to actually ask the question. I wouldn't have volunteered for the testing if I wasn't. But yes, I'm willing to donate."

A little bit of tension left the man. "We still needed the affirmation."

He turned around and spoke to a mediwizard. "Please bring in another examination table, we will need it at the other side of Mr Potter."

The mediwizard left the room while Healer Quentin addressed the people still present.

"We will begin the Magic transfusion shortly, to minimize the magical interference only Quentin, Trainee Greenfield, Trainee Haversford, Mediwitch Farchild and myself will stay in the room, and naturally Lord Slytherin and Professor Snape. We will keep the blood transfusion on a slow flow." Everyone nodded and several people left the room, then the healer turned to Severus. "You will be sitting at the left side of the bed. To give your magic a direct line into his core, Mr Potter's wand hand will be placed on his chest and you will have to cover it with your own."

Severus nodded in understanding, as the door behind them opened and the mediwizard from before wheeled an examination table into the room, placing it on the unoccupied side of the bed. Lord Slytherin observed everything quietly, with an intense expression in his eyes. He didn't look uncomfortable at all, sitting there and having to touch the boy who had been his enemy only a few days before.

Samson continued, while Quentin stepped up to the bed and conversed with the trainee who had been present at the examination previously.

"It could very well be, that you will get dizzy and tired during the transfusion, please do not break the connection, just simply lay down. We will keep track of Mr Potter's and your magical level and the moment his is up to a certain level we will slow down the transfusion or sever it altogether if it seems to be too much for you. If your magical level is depleted to a dangerous level, we will sever the connection between you two immediately, that is not negotiable." Samson said before Severus could even open his mouth to say anything to it.

"Now, please sit as comfortably on the table as possible, or lay down right away."

Severus stepped up to the examination table and sat down stiffly, the moment he turned to the bed he got the first really good look at the boy.

Potter was still very pale, which made a stark contrast to his black hair. Had his face always been that thin? Someone had removed his glasses and the similarity in his features to his mother felt like a punch in the stomach. The mouth, the chin, the line of his nose – all Lily.

It was disconcerting seeing him so motionless. The boy was normally always moving, shifting in his seat in class, never sitting still.

His wrists, thickly bandaged, were resting on top of the blanket and Severus gaze was drawn to the thin hands and long fingers. He remembered rather similar fingers, holding a beautiful wand and performing the most stunning magic.

Where was the similarity to his father everyone had always been speaking about? The similarity Severus had seen all those years? Yes, he had the typical unruly mop of black hair, and he was certain if he had more meat on his bones the overall shape of his face would also be typical Potter, but the boy was definitely more Evans than Potter.

He actually looked a lot like Lily's father, the boy's grandfather, from whom Lily had gotten most of her own features. A kind man who, alongside his wife, had always made Severus feel welcome when he visited the Evans' as a child.

Severus observed the steady raising of the chest, accompanied by the beeping of the monitoring spell and maintained by a respiratory-controlling spell – which was obvious due to glimmering around the boy's chest, mouth and nose - and took a deep breath himself.

Samson stepped up beside him. "Mr Potter is so far stable due to the blood transfusion, but this also gave his magic a boost to fight the healing magic. Melanie – Healer Quentin, will cast the spell to deplete his magic as much as possible, while I will cast the spell to connect your magic to Mr Potter's, she will then take over again and control the amount of magic which will flow from you to him and direct it."

Healer Quentin took her place at the head of the bed, taking her wand out of the pocket of her healer's robes and addressed him.

"You, Professor Snape, will place your hand on the boy's. The moment Mr Potter is ready for the linking of your magic, Emmet," She gestured to Samson, "will perform the connecting spell. For the linking and transfusion to go smoothly, please open your magic. That is, for most people, the hardest part. You need to open up your magical core, let your magic run free in your body and push it towards Mr Potter, it will make it easier for us to connect you. And as magic is intent based, think about - or better, will it - to heal Mr Potter."

She turned completely to him. "I will be blunt, it is not a nice feeling, especially the moment we cast the spell to get your magic to flow and fill Mr Potter's core. Some describe it as feeling like someone is pulling your insides to the outside, but whatever you do, from the moment we link your magic to the boy's, don't close your core or try to direct your magic in anyway. Oh, and place your wand and those potion vials aside please."

Severus inclined his head in understanding, put his wand and the potion vials down on the examination table and leaned slightly forward, resting his hands on his tights, all without glancing away from the boy on the bed before him.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Samson standing between the examination table Severus was sitting on and the bed the boy was lying in, drawing his wand, a concentrated look on his face.

Behind him and Quentin stood the trainees, one of them with a clipboard and the other casting a recording spell, which would record an audio copy of the happenings in the room.

The mediwitch stood at the foot of the bed, using her wand to enlarge some numbers on the monitoring images, then cast the same monitoring spell on Severus and put the new image and numbers beside the boy's.

"Now, everyone ready?" Quentin looked at everyone in the room and waited for confirmation, before she lifted her wand over the boy.

"Good, then let's begin."

* * *

Hermione hated waiting, hated feeling useless, hated not knowing what was going on. Every problem, every riddle, every dangerous situation they had encountered so far, she had researched as much as possible beforehand. She needed the reassuring feeling of being prepared for the worst.

But this was a situation where she couldn't do anything. She had to sit and wait for news, not knowing if her best friend was still alive or not - and she _hated_ it.

It felt like hours since they had tested them all for blood and magic compatibility. Hermione was fascinated by the integration of Muggle medicine. The kind trainee testing her parents and her had explained how a blood transfusion was done the magical way. Her mind instantly jumped to other ways to use magical and muggle medical methods together. She knew she was only doing it to distract herself from the solemn atmosphere and worried expressions on everyone's faces.

Then the mood had shifted, first into shock when the man she had a hard time linking to the monster of You-Know-Who she had in her head volunteered and was a compatible blood donor, and then again into disbelief when Professor Snape came forward to volunteer for the magic transfusion.

The turn of events was rather unbelievable, first Lord Slytherin and then their Potions Professor. But the longer Hermione thought about it the more her shock disappeared. If Harry really had done what he claimed – giving Lord Slytherin his Horcruxes and therefore his sanity back – she believed that the Lord felt, he owed Harry a debt. She had heard whispers of the trading system of the Slytherins, collect favours and debts and never try to be the one who owed someone something. It sounded exhausting, but it stood to reason that most children coming from that house would keep the habit later on.

Professor Snape was on their side, or so Professor Dumbledore had told them multiple times, and he was a teacher, someone who was responsible for the children under his care. She didn't believe that the man, as horrible as he was to most students, would stand by and let a child get hurt, if he could do something to prevent it.

She knew Harry and Ron would never agree with her on this. They were rather stuck in their opinion of their teacher.

But why would he think that his magical signature would be similar to Harry's? She thought about what she knew of the man, and what Harry had told them in their last school year, about the bullying. But there had to be more.

And how did they even test for similarities and compatibility in the magical signature? She had never read about magical signatures before.

Despite her brain trying to distract her, the time continued to pass in slow motion. She sat there beside her parents, with Ron on her other side, and waited. Ron was pale, his freckles standing out in stark contrast to his white complexion. His hand held hers in a death grip, which didn't bother her. He hadn't said much in the last hour and Hermione wasn't sure what she should or could say to him to make it better.

Nothing, except the news that Harry was alive and out of danger, would make it better.

She followed Ron's stare to the door. Somewhere behind that simple white door, their best friend was fighting for his life, hopefully winning.

Even if it seemed he didn't want to, even if it seemed he didn't want this life at all, they would show him that he would be sorely missed. They would show him he was loved, that there were people who cared for him. They would show him his life was worth living and that he was more than a weapon, more than a pawn on the board. They would show him that he mattered, not the boy who lived, not _Harry Potter_ , but Harry, their best friend.

With everything that had been happening in the last few years, Hermione had the suspicion that he hadn't heard this often enough.

Her gaze fell on Professor Dumbledore, she hadn't missed the look on his face when Lord Slytherin and Professor Snape volunteered. Hope, fear, uncertainty, but also calculation. She was actually surprised that the Headmaster didn't say anything, simply sat there and observed. When Lord Slytherin had been found compatible, she was certain she saw a brief twinkle in his eyes, as if a theory of his had been proven right.

She wasn't sure what she should think of the Headmaster in the moment.

Hermione was brought out of her thoughts by the return of Professor Snape, Lord Slytherin and Healer Samson. She didn't know Lord Slytherin well enough to interpret his expression and body language, but Professor Snape wasn't a stranger, even if he was hard to read.

But the way he walked stiffly to a chair and sat himself rigidly down on it, the way his mouth was a thin line in his otherwise expressionless face… Hermione was certain everything pointed to exhaustion.

Had he been a compatible donor and they had already performed the magical transfusion?

The voice of Healer Samson brought everyone to attention.

"Both the Blood and Magic transfusion went without problems, for Mr Potter and the donors." He nodded to the two man. "Mr Potter reacted very well to both and there are no rejection reactions so far."

"Could that still happen?" Hermione looked shortly to her Mum who had spoken from beside her before she focused on the Healer again. Both her parents knew what a rejection reaction did in Muggle transfusions, so the question didn't surprise her.

"No, if Mr Potter was going to reject either we would already know. His condition has already stabilized, and the donated magic is settling in, trying to heal his body and soothe Mr Potter's own magic to stop fighting. We will now wait till his core has accepted the foreign magic and there is nothing preventing healing magic to work anymore, and then administer the _wound-closing_ Potion."

"Why not immediately?" One of the twins interrupted, she thought it was George.

"Because another kind of magic in his system could lead to rejection." Healer Samson explained. "His magic already has to get used to Professor Snape's magic, the magic from the spell moving his lungs and the magical residue in the donated blood from Lord Slytherin. Too much foreign magic and his system could destabilize, and that is the last we want to happen right now."

The door opened and another wizard stepped in, said something to Healer Samson in a quiet voice and left again.

"It seems Mr Potter is reacting better to the transfusions than we estimated. His magic has stopped fighting against us all together and Healer Quentin wants to try to close his wounds now."

Hermione sighed in relief and felt some tension leave her body.

The healer addressed Lord Slytherin and Professor Snape with a stern expression. "Gentleman, I know you said you feel fine, but if there are any issues call for a Healer. Exhaustion because of Blood or Magic transfusion are nothing to ignore. Rest, drink and eat, and no strenuous activities in the next two to three days."

Both men nodded stiffly in understanding, pretending not to see the looks they got from everyone in the room, especially Professor Dumbledore.

The Healer left the room with the promise to keep them informed and they were left waiting again. But at least the mood had lifted, the atmosphere was lighter, and Professor Lupin and Ron's brother Charlie went to find something to eat for everyone.

* * *

Emmet Samson, healer at St Mungo's for eight years now, looked at his colleague Melanie Quentin in disbelief. "Are you certain?"

"Are you questioning my ability to read the findings?" Melanie snapped, and Trainees Greenfield and Haversford both took a step back.

Most of the people who had to work with the woman were equally in awe and in fear of her, but Emmet had liked her from the start. She was honest, blunt, fierce, brilliant and very proficient - and not above sending stinging hexes at people who annoyed her. You always knew where you stood with her, and as the piercing blue eyes settled with a glare on him, he only chuckled.

"Not at all. I have problems believing the results, not your skills."

She narrowed her eyes, but let it go and turned back to the parchment with the latest results of the diagnostic spell she had done on Mr Potter.

"I've redone the examination three times, but the results are the same."

"Do you have an idea how it could have happened?" Magical theory never had been his strongest field.

Melanie stared at the parchment like she wanted to set it on fire or force it to reveal what exactly had happened. She sighed and looked up at him. "I think I know, but I would say we should go and tell these findings," she waved with the papers, "to the relevant parties. There are several intelligent people in that room, two of them rumoured geniuses, perhaps they can help to unravel this."

Emmet nodded in agreement and together they walked to the waiting room. All heads immediately snapped to them the moment they entered.

"We have… news." Emmet wasn't sure how exactly he should start. He was used to telling people bad news, negative outlooks or completely unusual diagnosis. He was trained to do it, St. Mungo's had a mandatory training course for such cases every year. But this was highly unusual.

He saw the worry in the eyes of everyone had his short hesitation and went on. "Nothing negative, I assure you."

He took a deep breath and decided to start with the current standing. "The _wound-closing_ Potion we gave Mr Potter worked perfectly. Helped along by the donated magic, it closed the wound on his wrist, but he will have scars. Self-inflicted wounds always scar. With several general healing spells, we are reversing the damage done by the blood loss and some of the damage from years of abuse, but it will take time."

And that was something they had to look closer at, the boy would need a good support system and therapy to get through this. At least he already had the confirmation from the Aurors that they got the message and a case had been opened.

"Mr Potter is stable, but his body still needs healing." He continued. "He is malnourished and has several deficiencies. His immune system is compromised, his bones are brittle, his growth stunted. We will administer several potions to boost his immune system, strengthen his bones and get him to an acceptable weight for his age and height. He likely will never be as tall as he could have been, and his immune system will always be a little bit weaker, but all in all we can reverse most of it. But both the abuse and the massive blood loss took a toll on his body."

Now came the hardest part.

"But he doesn't show signs of waking up." Melanie stated. "We took him out of stasis when he was brought in and sedated him. After we cancelled the sedation charm, we did the same with the respiratory-control spell, to see if he would be breathing on his own, which he is."

A wave of relieved sighs went through the room.

"As Healer Quentin said, he isn't waking up." Emmet took a deep breath. "Theoretically, after casting the counter for the sedation spell, patients should wake up between ten minutes to one hour afterwards. We waited over an hour and he doesn't show any signs of waking up so far. His brain waves show no abnormalities, but they are typical for a person in a deep coma."

The worry on the faces around them increased.

"What… what does it mean?" Mr Weasley asked, what everyone in this room was certainly thinking.

"It means, that Mr Potter himself is not ready to wake up. It means that he escaped and hid so deep into his own mind that he needs time to find the way back." Emmet said gently.

"But he is coming back?" The question came from the young redheaded girl, obviously the daughter of Mrs Weasley.

"We don't know. Patients come out of a coma all the time, but sometimes they don't want to come back, sometimes they already went onwards and only their body is left behind. It can go either way; you have to be prepared for it." He didn't say that the ratio of the patients who didn't wake up again, even if their bodies had been healed, were from suicide attempts.

"What do we do now?" Mrs Weasley asked, her voice wavering.

"Visit him, talk to him." This was always his least favourite part of his job because they didn't know if Mr Potter would ever wake up, but he couldn't say that, he couldn't destroy their hope completely, but he also had to give them the facts.

"Give him a voice so that he can orientate himself. Several patients who woke up told us that they were lost in their own minds and couldn't find their way back, they needed a voice to find the way out, and apparently, they could hear everything around them. That's what you can do for the moment. We are not totally out of options yet, but we want to give his body a chance to rest and heal first."

Melanie took a step forward to draw their attention. "Because he wouldn't wake up, we ran another deep diagnosis spell on him, to see if we missed something. Nothing came up, but we found something that startled us."

She looked at Severus Snape and Marvolo Slytherin, someone without their control would have fidget under her stare.

"But I want to have some points confirmed first, please. Lord Slytherin, your resurrection was done with the help of Mr Potter's blood, unwillingly given, and you have that link to him because of that…" She didn't say more but Emmet knew she was talking about the Horcrux, the soul piece _still_ embedded in Mr Potter's scar. That was also a result of the deep scan, and something they would have to discuss with the man sitting before them.

Lord Slytherin nodded.

"And if I understood correctly from what Healer Samson told me, the boy is responsible for your current sane state?"

Another confirmation.

"So, we have a two-fold connection between yourself and Mr Potter."

Another nod.

"Your _willing_ blood donation deepened that link. Mr Potter's blood was used to resurrect you, to build your body, and in return your blood was now used to keep Mr Potter alive, all while you had that other connection, which does link more than your mind together. This had unexpected results."

Everyone held their breath, but Melanie didn't elaborate - for now - instead, she addressed Hogwarts' Potions Master. His colleague certainly had a penchant for drama.

"Professor Snape, as I understood you swore an oath to protect the boy when he was still a baby?" Melanie enquired.

Now, most of them were looking confused. Professor Dumbledore had that strange twinkle in his eyes, but also looked worried, while both Slytherin and Snape looked pale, but their expression didn't betray what they were feeling. Emmet envied them for their control of their facial features.

But he wasn't sure if they were prepared for _this_.

The Potions Professor nodded.

"A magically binding oath?"

Another curt nod.

"It seems the donation of your magic lead to slightly different interpretation of that oath and formed a more direct bond between you and Mr Potter." Melanie looked at the parchment again, a small smirk lifting the corner of her mouth. Emmet could understand it, it would at least solve one problem and if the situation hadn't been so serious, it would have been funny in a way, especially because of the people involved.

"The deep scan we performed list the full name of the patient, his age, where he was born, all his injuries and diseases over his lifetime, and every bond - blood, soul or magical - that he has, like parents and godparents, brothers by either blood or magic etc. As Mr Potter's parents James and Lily Potter are listed, no surprise there but another set of names appeared." She looked at the parchment and read aloud.

"Harry James Potter. Father by blood and soul: Marvolo Slytherin. Father by magic: Severus Snape."

Silence.

"It seemed the bonds between you lead magic to decide that you are his family, not to each other, only to him."

Both men's eyes went wide as they looked at Melanie, then at each other. Melanie handed over the parchment for them to see it themselves.

"So, in conclusion, Magic, or Merlin, or whatever you want to believe, decided you are family based on several different bonds from you two gentleman to the boy. Mr Potter is your son and you are his fathers." Her bluntness in stating it silenced several outcries instantly.

"It doesn't change that the Potter's are his birth parents, but it means that you have immediate custody of Mr Harry James Potter and full parental rights and _obligations_. Not even the Minister or the Chief Warlock could go against it."

Emmet saw his colleague glance shortly at Professor Dumbledore, who sat there with his thrice-damned grandfatherly expression, while his eyes shifted between Slytherin, Snape and the parchment in their hands.

"From now on, you are responsible for the boy, don't let him down."

That she even said this much told Emmet how enraged his colleague was about the boy's case. Suicide attempts were always hard, especially with a patient that young, but on top of the abuse, the horrifying matter of a Horcrux and some of the past injuries which had to have happened in Hogwarts, the healer in him - and apparently in Melanie too - was livid.

And if he knew his colleague, it also meant she would keep an eye out for the boy. Even if he woke up today, he still would be in the hospital for some time and afterwards would need to come back for check-ups and Emmet would make sure that either Melanie or he himself were the doctors appointed to him every time.

But first, they needed to make sure that his body and mind healed, and that he woke up. They weren't completely out of options, but first they wanted to give the new _fathers_ some time to process.

With another stern glare to the room at large, Melanie left, Emmet followed right behind her.

Stunned silence filled the room for several minutes, then:

"Congratulations, it's a boy!" Both twins said cheerfully in unison.

* * *

 **AN:** Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think.

That last part was really stuck in my head for some time, especially the twins' reaction, I am so happy to have it out now and hope you like it.

First published: 10th of October 2019


End file.
